Gifts From A Wise Man
by Hithui
Summary: Secret Santa exchange at the LVPD Crime Lab leads to GSR.  Response for the CSIFO December 2011 Fan Fiction Challenge  csiforeveronline dot wetpaint dot com  Rating M, just to be safe
1. Chapter 1

**Gifts from a Wise Man**

_**AN:** Here is my entry for the CSIFO December 2011 Fan Fiction Challenge (csiforeveronline dot wetpaint dot com)_

_The story will have to do with Secret Santa at the lab. Here are the requirements:_

_1) Sara gets Grissom OR Grissom gets Sara._

_2) Mistletoe must be involved in some way._

_3) One character must say "Ho Ho Ho"_

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><p><em><strong>Saturday, December 20th, 2003<strong>_

Small hands slapped Gil Grissom's away from the bow tie he was fiddling with.

/_Stop it! If you keep messing with it, **you'll** have to retie it,_/ Betty Grissom scolded before she straightened the deep red tie again. She gave a proud smile as she stepped back to gaze at her son who was decked out in a tuxedo for the LVPD Holiday Ball. A gold-shot black vest, deep red kerchief, and boutonniere made of mistletoe added a festive air to his otherwise all black ensemble.

A nervous smile curled his lips as the nightshift supervisor drew in a deep breath to try and calm his nerves. _This is what you've planned and worked for since Thanksgiving,_ Grissom reminded himself gruffly._ Tonight you will know — one way or the other._ Slowly releasing the air from his lungs, his blue eyes focused on his mother's laughing gaze. /_You are enjoying this **far** too much, Mom,_/ he lovingly scolded before bussing a kiss against her cheek.

/_I think I'm entitled to enjoy this,_/ Betty retorted, making a face at him. /_I was starting to think you'd never find anyone, not since you broke up with Julia–_/

Grissom's hands moved sharply. /_**Don't** go there, Mom!_/ Closing his eyes for a moment, he sighed and continued in a gentler "tone." /_I would have been settling for second best with Julia . . . and that wouldn't have been fair to either of us._/ A wistful smile graced his face as his gaze went distant. /_If I'm lucky enough to regain Sara's trust . . . to have a chance to show her what I feel . . . to not be too late . . ._/

His stuttering hands were stilled as his mother gripped them in hers, and his gaze refocused on her brown eyes and knowing smile. /_If it's really love, you can never be too late, Gilbert._/ She gently patted his cheek before turning him toward the door. /_Now you'd better get going – this is no night to be fashionably late!_/

Grinning at her tease, Grissom shrugged into his overcoat, patting his pocket to ensure that the final Secret Santa gift was still safely in place. Then he wrapped his mother in a warm hug, kissed her forehead and strode out the door.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Thursday, November 27th, 2003<strong>_

Betty quietly studied her brooding son as he sipped his after-dinner coffee. Something had been bothering him for several weeks now, but he'd managed to deflect her gentle inquiries up until now – mostly by avoiding being in any place truly private with her. Not that she hadn't enjoyed the various restaurants he'd taken her to for their customary weekly meals, but they had definitely **not** been conducive to the motherly grilling that she felt was going to be required to get at whatever was bothering her boy. But today was Thanksgiving, and she'd insisted on cooking for them. It was their first major holiday since she'd moved to Las Vegas, and she'd used that mercilessly to get him to acquiesce.

Setting his cup down, Grissom arched a sardonic eyebrow at his mother. /_So when does the inquisition begin?_/ His lips twitched in a small, knowing grin as he watched her attempt to look oblivious. /_You've been trying to ask me "what's wrong" in various ways for weeks now, Mom. And the guilt trip you laid on me to have a home-made Thanksgiving dinner was a very well played touch._/

With a huff, the elder Grissom gave up all attempts at pretense and settled for good humored bluntness. /_Then tell me what has you so down in the dumps, Gilbert,_/ she demanded. /_You've been more depressed than you were before you decided to have the surgery to repair your hearing. So talk._/

For a moment she thought he was going to refuse, noting the stubborn clench of his jaw and the tightness about his eyes. Then he exhaled, his shoulders drooping, and a deep sorrow shadowed his gaze.

/_I made a big mistake with S – someone, and now I don't know how to fix it. It might be too late to fix it . . . and I think . . ._/ he paused, gulping as he recalled a conversations from more than thirty years ago, /_. . . she's the one that holds my heart . . . and I was too blind stubborn to see it._/

All humor fled Betty's face. /_Love can never be too late, Gilbert. Now tell me what happened between you and Sara, and let's see what we can do to fix it._/ A soft smile graced her face as she saw his astonishment. /_Gilbert, you **have** mentioned her before, and the look on your face is definitely not the same as when you talk about Catherine, or any other woman, for that matter. Plus you started to sign an "S" before changing it to "someone," m'dear,_/ she teased gently, watching him blush at making such a mistake.

So, slowly and carefully, he told her all about Sara Sidle: how they had met five years before at a conference in San Francisco and her intelligence and spirit had captivated him; how he'd asked her to come to Vegas to help him when Holly Gribbs was shot; how the attraction had still been there, but he was now her boss and there were rules at the time that prohibited something more; how he had then doubted that she felt the same as he did as he watched her flirt with other men in the lab, on the team; how she'd nearly left the lab because she thought he didn't care, that he didn't pay attention to her; how Phillip Gerard had taunted him about her 'boyfriend' that he'd known nothing about; how he'd pulled away from her, from everyone as his hearing slowly failed, terrified of them knowing, not wanting their pity; how she'd been hurt in the lab explosion; and how, when he was having to reprimand her over her dangerous actions following that trauma, she'd asked him out – and he'd turned her down.

/_Gilbert! Why on earth would you say no?_/ Betty asked in astonishment, seeing beyond his terse words how much this woman had gotten under his skin and into his heart.

His hands flew in the ASL equivalent of shouting. /_Because at the time I thought she was trying to turn the conversation away from what she'd done going after a suspect on her own? Because I was leaving to see Dr. Roth and confirm the surgery? Because I didn't know if the surgery was going to work, and I couldn't bear the thought of being a burden to her? Or maybe because I'm a blind idiot that didn't get my head out of the microscope to really see what was happening?_/ At the end of his tirade he dropped his head into his hands.

Shaking her head in astonishment, Betty rubbed a gentle hand on her son's back until he raised his gaze back to her. /_But the surgery worked, your hearing is better than ever . . . why haven't you said something to her since?_/

Grissom sighed heavily. /_I hurt her when I turned her down, Mom, badly, and the ease we used to have is missing, it's like it's just . . . gone. She still works with me, but it's as if there's a wall around her, and I can't get through it._/ His hands scrubbed over his face for a moment before he continued. /_And now there's this blasted promotion that both she and Nicky have put in for, and she's worried that I'll somehow hold whatever happened or didn't happen between us against her. And if that wasn't bad enough, I had to give a case that she and Nick had started to Catherine, because Cath had an edge with the suspect that we needed to exploit . . . but Sara saw it as my not trusting her. I can't seem to do anything right anymore, and I don't know how to undo the harm I've done without it looking like **I'm** being inappropriate._/

Frowning in thought, Betty signed, /_Somehow you need to get past the pain and hurt, but this needs more than words, more than actions. You said last time you sent a plant in apology, and that worked?_/ She smiled at his tentative nod. /_Christmas is coming up, Gilbert, so that gives you a little less than a month to come up with an appropriate gift, don't you think?_/

/_Christmas . . ._/ His eyes widened as an idea began to take root. /_We always do a Secret Santa exchange for Christmas . . . if I get Sara, I would have a whole week to try and show her that I know what to do now . . ._/

/_But, Gilbert, isn't the drawing random for the Secret Santa?_/

An impish grin curled his lips. /_Yes . . . but **I** prepare the slips for the drawing._/ His eyes twinkled as hope grew in his heart.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Monday, December 1st, 2003**_

Grissom stared down at the slip of paper in his palm, steadying his nerves. _You can do this,_ he reassured himself, practicing "drawing" the palmed slip from the red and green bowl one more time. Confident that he could pull it off, he rose, carrying the bowl toward the breakroom. He saw the crowd waiting for him, and smiled at the impatience in Catherine's stance as she glanced at her watch.

"Finally!" the strawberry blonde grumbled as Grissom strode into the room and moved over to Jim Brass' side.

"Cath, shift doesn't start for another half hour, I am **not** late–" the entomologist started, only to be interrupted by his second in command.

"Yeah, but I've got the night off, Gil, and other places to be, so let's hurry this up, okay?"

Warrick and Nick exchanged grins at Catherine's tone, careful not to let her see them.

"All right, all right," Grissom soothed, glancing around the room quickly to ensure that everyone was there. _Lab techs . . . Doc and SuperDave . . . all my CSIs . . . okay._ "Let me go over the rules really quickly," his eyes locked on Catherine's, telling her not to interrupt, "and we'll get this done. Secret Santa exchange will take place the week prior to the Holiday Ball, so Monday the fifteenth through Friday the nineteenth, with the final gift and reveal to take place at the Ball itself. No specific price limit is set, as per the overwhelming requests I received after last year. And that's also the week we're covering for Dayshift's vacation, so remember it's 4am to 4pm for those five days." He shrugged at the groans that echoed around the room. "We have the next week off this year, and Swing gets the week with New Year's," he reminded the grumbling crowd. "Okay, once you've drawn your name, and made sure didn't draw yourself, you are free to go. Any questions?" Glancing around and seeing no raised hands, he turned and handed the bowl of names to Brass.

"Seems like I've volunteered to oversee your draw this year . . . so Brown, you're up first."

Stepping out of the way and avoiding Catherine's glare as she realized that she was last, Grissom watched as his folks came up for their turns one by one: Warrick Brown, Bobby Dawson, and Jacqui Franco, before Brass called out his own name – Gil Grissom.

For a moment, as he drew out his palmed paper, his eyes caught a look in Jim's that made him think he'd been rumbled, but then the detective chortled at the impatient noises coming from a certain redhead, and Grissom breathed a silent sigh before finishing his ruse, checking the slip and stepping back for the draw to continue.

Brass continued down the list, working his way through the members of the nightshift: David Hodges, Archie Johnson, Ronnie Litre, and David Phillips, who took some good-natured ribbing for drawing his own name as he sheepishly showed his slip to the detective before drawing a new one.

Al Robbins was called next, followed by, Greg Sanders, Sara Sidle, Nick Stokes, Judie Tremont, Mandy Webster and finally Catherine Willows. Grabbing the last slip, making sure it didn't have her name, the strawberry blonde waved as she blew out of the room, her heels clicking rapidly down the hall.

"Next year, Gil, start with 'W' – for my sake?" Jim teased as he clapped his friend on the shoulder before heading out the door to get ready for the night.

Grissom just smiled as he tucked the slip with "Sara Sidle" boldly written on it into his pocket. Step one accomplished, Operation Sidle is under way, he thought as he headed out to collect the case slips for his team.


	3. Chapter 3

_AN: This chapter and several following overlap with the 4th season episode "Coming of Rage." Some minor liberties have been taken with the episode to fit the needs of the story._

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><p><em><strong>Monday, December 15th<strong>_

Rubbing his hands tiredly over his face in an attempt to gain a little energy to finish his paperwork, the night shift supervisor glanced at the clock. He was very thankful that this first long shift was nearly over, as he mulled over the events of the day.

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><p><em>Earlier, Same Day<em>

With Graveyard working a shift and a half to help cover Day's week of vacation, Grissom had encouraged everyone to avoid coming in early for once, knowing they'd all be tired with the change in hours. And he'd tried to set the example, arriving at work only fifteen minutes before start of shift himself. As he'd made his way to his office to check what new cases had come in, he could hear the bustle of staff change over in the locker room and the various labs.

From the delighted sounds and laughter he heard as he made his way down the hall, Grissom guessed that Secret Santa's had been busy already, planting their surprises about the lab. A quick glance into the breakroom saw more gifts tucked under the tree there, waiting for their owner's to find them. His hand drifted to his inner breast pocket, confirming that his first present for Sara was safely tucked there, waiting for an opportunity to slip it into her locker later that day.

But as he reached his office door he couldn't help bursting out in laughter himself, the rarely heard sound rolling through the corridors and drawing folks out to see what was going on. Soon a small crowd of lab techs and CSIs were gathered around the chortling supervisor, gazing at the unusual wreath on his door that was causing his laughter.

Made of woven grape vines, red and white silk flowers and interspersed with twinkling green lights, the wreath was liberally decorated with some insect in a pale brown with delicately veined light green wings. A buzz of voices and laughter surrounded Grissom before he felt a hand on his arm and turned to look at the amused face of Catherine Willows.

"All right, Gil, what are they?" she asked, pointing at the wreath.

"_Tibicen lyricen_ I do believe," Grissom chuckled, ducking away from her exasperated thwap. "Lyric Cicadas, Cath, or their shed carapaces. Mostly females by the coloration." Turning to look at his staff, his blue eyes twinkling with merriment, he nodded. "Thank you, whoever is my Secret Santa, this is a very nice way to start the week."

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><p><em>It was fun watching various folks find and open their gifts throughout the hours before new cases came in,<em> Grissom thought.

Judie was now sporting a pair of rather realistic mistletoe dangle earrings that seemed to have caused her to gain the giggles whenever a male staff member came up to reception. The music coming out of the DNA lab was of a decidedly different nature as Grissom paused to listen in amusement to Greg warbling along with _"I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas"_ off one of his new CDs. Hodges was trying to rope anyone that came by Trace to join him at lunch break playing his copy of a boardgame made about the old television series _"Emergency!"_ And Catherine had left the morning briefing to rush off to the locker room to change into the new blouse she'd received in her package from under the tree.

But the frivolity couldn't continue uninterrupted by reality, and, shortly after dawn, he'd been summoned to a construction site for a 419 that had quickly become a 420. Calling in Warrick and Sara to back him up, they had spent most of the morning collecting evidence and running down leads. Literally running in one case, he smirked, recalling the smile Sara had shot him before she took off after the scent dogs when he'd told the handler that she does all his running.

He could also still feel the glare Sara had given him before she went to collect all the hammers – the potential murder weapons – from the construction crew. But there had been a different feel to the look, that made him think of years past rather than the animosity that had been there just a month prior. In fact, the whole crew had seemed to be keeping an eye on him and Catherine since the excitement of the car bomb and the bullets cooking off at the scene the prior week.

Once the three of them had returned to the lab, they'd been so busy following up their leads that Grissom had barely had time to slip the fat envelope that was Sara's first gift into her locker without getting caught by someone. He'd just stepped away, in fact, when Catherine had come bustling into the room, nearly knocking him over in her hurry, and fumbling the wrapped gift in her hands behind her back to hide the name on the tag from his gaze.

His thoughts were interrupted when Warrick knocked on the door. "Here's the notes on Gregory Curtwell's interview, Gris, and Sara's interviewing his sister, Ashley, now."

Quickly glancing over the notes, Grissom's eyes twinkled as he spotted a green envelope peaking out of the lanky man's jacket pocket. "Received your first Secret Santa gift there, Warrick?" he queried, recalling seeing a similarly colored envelope in the hands of a certain receptionist earlier that day.

"What? Oh, yeah, tickets to a jazz concert after the New Year. I found it tucked in my box just a bit ago, but Judie says she didn't see who put it there." The green-eyed man shrugged good naturedly. "There's been some pretty good gifts that I've seen so far, though someone really pegged you, I'd say," he grinned, nodding at the twinkling wreath hanging on the door.

"Just be glad it doesn't have sound, not everyone appreciates the song of the cicada," Grissom rejoined with a sideways smirk. Then turning his mind back to business, he added his initials to the report and slid the pages into the casefile. "Well, until we get results back from DNA and Trace, I think we've done all we can for now on the Haddick case." Seeing Warrick nod, he leaned back in his chair. "I'll wait for Sara's report of her interview, and we'll see where we are at and hit it fresh at start of shift tomorrow."

"All right, Griss, see ya in twelve hours or so," the younger man grinned before heading out of the office. "Hey, Sara," could be heard in the hallway as he passed his coworker on his way out.

"See ya, Warrick," the brunette called over her shoulder before turning to knock lightly on her boss' open door.

"Come in, Sara," Grissom called softly, clasping his hands over the file on his desk, and hoping his poker face was firmly in place. "So, tell me what we know."

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><p>They discussed the case for a short time, going over Ashley Curtwell's statements, before finally agreeing it was time to head out, and pick up the case when the next shift started. Picking up his briefcase, Grissom followed Sara out, locking up his office and smiling once more at his wreath, before heading to the locker room in the brunette's wake.<p>

Thankfully for him, Nick and Catherine were there as well, gathering their things, though Grissom noticed there was no sign of the wrapped box he'd spied sitting in front of Nick's locker, the same one that he'd seen in Catherine's hands earlier. He moved slowly at his own locker, wanting to hear and see Sara's reaction when she opened her own gift.

"Whoops!" came from the young woman's lips as the thick envelope fell out onto the floor as she opened up her locker.

Nick grinned, and nudged Catherine before moving to peer over the brunette's shoulder. "Soooo . . . going to show us what you got, Sara?" he teased.

"I don't recall you showing off whatever you got today, Nicky," she retorted, throwing a playful glower at the Texan. Noting, however, that the redhead was also watching with interest, Sara took her time studying the handwriting on the front, trying to place it with those that she worked with. Her fingers gentle palpated the thick missive, trying to guess what might be inside.

"Oh, for God's sake, just open it!" Catherine huffed, almost tempted to reach out and do the job for her colleague.

With a roll of her eyes as Nick laughed at the two women, Sara popped open the flap and drew out a beautiful snowscape card, instantly reminding her of Boston and her winters at Harvard. Opening the card revealed more of the unknown handwriting, and a second, smaller envelope. As her eyes traveled down the words, a soft "oh" escaped her lips, and she hurriedly opened the second envelope, her eyes going wide in shock.

Grissom smiled to himself and quickly slipped out of the room as Nick and Catherine crowded close to Sara, eager to see what had surprised her so. The Texan whistled as he saw the six tickets peeking out of the second envelope, while the redhead plucked the original card from the brunette's nerveless fingers, reading it aloud for Nick's benefit.

"'My dearest Sara,

"'Tradition states that gifts should be given over the twelve days of Christmas. Alas, I only have six to treat you as you should be treated, as you should have always been treated. I recently learned that you have never had a chance to see the Cirque du Soleil. So, for your first day, please accept this token of my affection:

"'_On the first day of Gift Exchange, Secret Santa gives to thee . . . twelve drummers drumming, eleven pipers piping, ten lords a-leaping, and nine ladies dancing._

"'As each of Vegas' resident shows reminds me in some way of you, I could not choose just one to gift you with. **_Mystere_** attempts to capture the mystery, the complexity that we call life, just as you strive every day to solve the mysteries and complexities of the lives around you. You are endlessly mysterious to me, Sweet Sara.

"'_**O**_ emphasizes that anything is possible and the realization that the drama of life plays itself out right before our very eyes . . . something that you seem to so easily grasp, to understand. This is a lesson I am still learning.

"'_**Zumanity**_ tells us that we should never forget that our bodies and our lives are meant for pure pleasure and sheer joy – and that joy is meant to be shared. I truly hope to share more with you, perhaps even escorting you to these shows if I am so lucky.

"'Until tomorrow, my dearest Sara, Merry Christmas.

"Signed 'Your Secret Santa.'"

Wide blue eyes looked up from the card to find a rosy cheeked Sara staring back in astonishment. In a sudden flurry of motion, the brunette snatched her card back from Catherine and hurriedly stuffed it and the tickets into her purse. Slamming her locker shut, she bolted from the locker room, leaving her two stunned colleagues behind.

"Wow, I think this might be a very Merry Christmas for Sara," Nick remarked softly, then groaning as he saw the speculative look on Catherine's face. "No, Cath, just no. We are **not** going to share this with **anyone** . . . or go poking around trying to figure out who it is. This is Sara's surprise," he sternly warned, fighting a grin at the sudden pout that appeared on the redhead's face. He held her gaze until she finally, reluctantly, nodded.

"All right, all right. I won't question, I won't pry, and I won't tell," she promised, before giving him a wink. "But that doesn't mean I won't be looking!" she added with a laugh before flouncing out of the locker room.

Shaking his head in resignation, Nick followed, muttering, "Yeah, and I just hope you don't explode before Saturday!"

* * *

><p><em>AN2: For those who want to see what I based Grissom's wreath on, check out this site: www dot cicadamania dot com slash cicadas and find the link for the wreath :)<em>


	4. Chapter 4

_**Tuesday, December 16th**_

Sara opened her locker with mild trepidation and nervous excitement. Nothing appeared to be waiting for her, though her gift the day before hadn't arrived until she was on her way out. Her heart warred with her head as she again pondered who her Secret Santa could be. She knew who she **wished** it would be, but was wary of once again pinning her hopes on her enigmatic supervisor. With a sigh, she placed her purse away after tucking the gift she had for her own giftee into her jacket pocket. Then she nearly jumped out of her skin when Greg popped his head around the edge of her locker door, grinning widely.

"That for me?" he asked with a waggle of his eyebrows, trying to peek at the tag on the gaily wrapped box before her hand covered it from his gaze.

Snorting, Sara closed her locker door with a snap. "Dream on, Greggo. Even if I was your Secret Santa, I wouldn't just tell you," she grinned, heading out of the room.

Greg followed her down the hallway, whistling "Here Comes Santa Claus" just loud enough for her to hear, grinning as she threw a glare at him before entering the breakroom.

This morning the table under the small Christmas tree was piled high with gifts, and Sara quickly slipped the one from her pocket in among them before heading over to the coffee machine. She shook her head as she watched Greg out of the corner of her eye, as he tried to surreptitiously check out the tag on the present she'd deposited, only to be distracted when he spotted his name boldly printed on a different box nearby.

"Told ya," she whispered as she moved past him to sit down around the table as other members of the shift started filing in for the pre-shift briefing.

With a small huff of air, Greg grinned sheepishly, and began quickly sorting through the gifts under the tree, sliding them onto the briefing table in front of the team's normal seats. "Hmmm . . . either Nick and Warrick's Santa's haven't visited yet, or their gifts are hiding elsewhere," he chortled as he slid a large box in front of Sara, having already placed one in front of Grissom's chair and another in front of Catherine's. Then, after filling up a coffee mug for himself, and nodding at the two men, he picked up his gift and strolled out of the room and headed in the direction of DNA.

Nick grinned at how eagerly Catherine was tearing into her present. "Lemme guess, you were always up first and halfway through your presents before your Mom got up?" he teased the strawberry blonde who just shot him a glare and continued with her unwrapping.

Warrick shook his head as sat down with his own filled mug. "With all your sisters, I'd have thought you'd have learned not to come between women and presents by now, Nick," he drawled, watching as Sara slipped a card out from under the ribbon of her own gift and began to read to herself.

_My dearest Sara,_

_On the second day of Gift Exchange, Secret Santa gives to thee . . . eight maids a-milking, seven swans a-swimming, and six geese a-laying._

_Knowing how much you care about all of God's creations, I have taken the liberty of making a donation in your name to PAWS, the Performing Animal Welfare Society, an organization that I hope you would be proud to have your name associated with._

_I also hope that you will enjoy the sweets contained within as much as I enjoyed making them for you, and know that I am thinking of you, always._

_Life is uncertain. Eat dessert first. ~Ernestine Ulmer_

_Until tomorrow, my dearest Sara, Merry Christmas._

_Your Secret Santa._

Gazing at the receipt made out in her name, Sara shook her head in astonishment and shot a quick, speculative glance at the head of the table where Grissom was just settling in, his blue eyes still locked on the folder in his hand. He seemed as oblivious as always to what was going on around him at the moment, though she knew that wasn't truly the case. And was proven right a moment later when, as Catherine slipped a mug of coffee next to him, he absent-mindedly said, "Thanks, Catherine. New necklace? Very nice," all without looking up from the file.

A chuckle swept about the table as the strawberry blonde lightly caressed the pearl inlaid silver 'tag' that hung from a leather thong about her neck.

"Thank you, Gil. My Secret Santa has very good taste indeed," she rejoined as she slipped back into her seat.

Nick's hand moved closer to the closed box in front of Sara, nudging the lid curiously, his nostrils flaring at the sweet scent coming from the container. "Gonna see what's in there?" he mock whispered, yanking his hand back as she slapped at it.

"Still haven't learned not to pick on the ladies, Nicky?" Gil asked as he finally closed his folder and blinked at the package sitting in front of him as if trying to figure out where it had come from. With a shrug, he quickly opened it, pulling out a bag of ground Kona Dark Roast coffee and an extra large coffee mug that made him smile.

Warrick leaned over to see what was on the mug, and burst out laughing as he spied the tag. "'Bug of Mystery'? Another cicada, Gris?" He shook his head as the older man just shrugged, looking shyly pleased at his gift.

While the others were distracted with the entomologist's present, Sara lifted the lid to get a peek within, and inhaled happily at the scents of chocolate and cream that wafted out.

Hearing her, Catherine turned to look. "Oooh . . . are you going to share?" she murmured.

With a laugh, Sara flipped back the lid and revealed the large tray covered with two dozen cream puff swans, drizzled in three shades of chocolate. "I think I'll need to, there is no way I could eat these all myself!" she grinned, plucking one of the pastries out and waving her hand to her colleagues.

After everyone, even Grissom, after some gentle urging by Sara, had taken one of the delicacies, she resealed the box. "You'll want to find a place to hide those if you want any by the end of shift," Catherine murmured around a mouthful.

"Check and see if Doc Robbins has a spare drawer. Should keep them fresh and out of the hands of most of the staff," Grissom suggested with a shrug at Nick's stare. "What, they'll stay cool and fresh, and not many of the staff would go poking around the morgue anyway."

The CSIs looked at each other, then away quickly, fighting laughter as they all thought that was such a 'Grissom' suggestion, even if it made a twisted sense. But before anyone else could comment, Grissom called the briefing to order, and their workday began.

"Okay, Sara, Warrick, we'll continue with our case from yesterday. You two see where the labs are at and follow up on any evidence we haven't yet processed. I'll see Al for the final post and Brass said he'd bring in the victim's parents later this morning. I'll see them over at PD when he calls." Seeing their nods, Grissom turned his sharp blue gaze to the Texan. "Nick, you're still working on your DFO that turned into a gunshot wound?" the bearded man asked, meeting the other man's brown eyes steadily and accepting his nod as an answer. "All right. Keep me appraised on how that's going, and let me know if you need any help." Seeing that the younger man had nothing more to add at the moment, he turned to the last member of the team. "Nothing new has hit us yet, so, Catherine, you'll be on call for anything that comes in, and can continue with the files you were sorting yesterday, all right?" Easily ignoring his second's snort of disgust, he glanced around the table one last time, then rose, dismissing them all to start.

* * *

><p>As Grissom pulled on a clean smock before entering the morgue, he smiled to himself, recalling the look on Sara's face when she read today's card. It had taken all his willpower not to meet her gaze when she'd looked at him, not wanting to give the game away just yet. <em>It's only day two, she can guess all she wants, but as long as I don't do something to confirm it, she'll only be guessing.<em> As he pushed open the doors to the morgue, he blinked at the music that wafted out – the unmistakable voice of Louis Armstrong asking _'Zat you, Santa Claus?_ "Am I hearing that your Secret Santa has been by, Al?"

"Yes, and I caught him at it, too," the coroner chortled as he moved over to turn off the CD player. "But I promised him I wouldn't say anything until Saturday, so you can forget grilling me about it. Besides we have another mystery to be working on, so let's get at it." And Doctor Robbins led the way to the table where Brian Haddick awaited.

* * *

><p>The sun was on its downward arc as Warrick pulled up to the construction site again. Grissom had seen the Haddicks that morning, while Sara and Warrick followed their evidence through the various labs. But the swab from the injury to Brian Haddick's hand had failed to match either Gregory or Ashley Curtwell, leaving them without a suspect. Talking it over with his team, Grissom had decided they needed to return to the scene of the crime to see if they could pull the evidence together in some way that made sense. As the trio talked their way through it, examining the spatter and crunching the numbers, they realized that there had to be more than one attacker.<p>

Seeing the time as they returned to the lab, Grissom sighed. "We're not going to get much further today. What outstanding evidence do we still have to go over?"

"I still need to track the shoe print down, but I think that's the only thing pending from my end. I can hit that first thing at start of shift, and hope it leads us somewhere," Warrick responded, glancing at Sara.

The brunette nodded in agreement. "I'll make sure everything else has finished running through the labs, and get the file up-to-date until we have something to chase?" she offered, glancing at the curly haired man beside her.

Grissom met her gaze calmly and nodded. "Three attackers . . . we need something concrete before we question Ms. Curtwell again. She's protecting them at the moment, which is understandable from her point of view, but something isn't adding up right. Hopefully we'll find something new to go on tomorrow." With a soft smile, he turned and headed into his office to pack and head home. "Oh, and Sara, don't forget to fetch your pastries. Doc says he can't guarantee they'll still be there tomorrow if you don't take them home today," he threw over his shoulder before disappearing from view.

* * *

><p><em>AN: A big thank you to all who are reviewing my story :) I could take the time to answer each one, but figured you'd rather I put the time into writing LOL! I hope to have the next chapter up earlier tomorrow, as a cold has kept me home for Christmas (Bah, humbug!) Merry Merry to everyone, and may you enjoy whatever Winter Holiday you are celebrating!<em>


	5. Chapter 5

___AN: This chapter wound up being a long one :) Hopefully it will make up a little for no installment yesterday. Merry Christmas one and all!_

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><p><em><strong>Wednesday, December 17th<strong>_

It was relatively quiet about the lab as Grissom signed off on another casefile, adding it to his done pile. Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was going on 7:00 am, and time for him to check on his people. _And get myself out from behind this desk and this unending paperwork,_ he grumbled as he grabbed the file for the Haddick case. _Three hours is more than enough time on paper patrol._ Glancing down the hall and seeing Judie talking with some folks at reception, he quickly turned back into his office and slipped a brightly wrapped gift underneath the file. _I can slip this into Sara's box while Judie's busy . . ._ he thought with a quirky smile as he strode up to the counter. There were some memos in his own box, and under cover of grabbing them, he managed to slide the small present underneath the papers waiting in the one marked 'Sidle, S.' before the receptionist turned to check on him.

"Everything okay, Dr. Grissom?" she asked tentatively. Grissom suppressed a smile. Ever since he'd done the experiment on Greg's feet a few years back, and then pulled Judie in to tug Warrick around the floor of the breakroom for help on another case, she'd been a touch nervous around him.

"Just fine, Judie. I need to head over to PD soon to check in with Detective Brass, so if anyone's looking for me, that's where I'll be," he murmured before turning to make a run through the labs and see how the cases were progressing. Nick, he knew, was heading out with Vega, to do the drudgery of door-to-door as he tried to find out where the bullet that had killed his victim had come from.

Peering into the room where Warrick was hard at work going through the shoeprint database, he decided not to interrupt, knowing the younger man would page him when he had some results. A quick stop with Sara and he was up-to-date on the status of all the blood, DNA and Trace work running through the labs. He gave her a warm smile as he slipped copies of her results into his file. "Good work, Sara. I'm off to PD if something breaks."

* * *

><p>Sara watched Grissom stride away, easily dodging others in the hallway while reading from the file, and wrestled once again with her conflicting feelings. No matter how much she tried to convince herself to distance herself from her enigmatic supervisor, she still felt drawn to him, despite the hurt and anger that lingered from events of the past. The familiar arguments rolled around in her head: <em>I asked him out and he turned me down, flat . . . but I asked him when he was reprimanding me about that stunt I'd pulled at Durado's apartment . . . He didn't tell me about the troubles with his hearing <strong>or<strong> the surgery he was going to have to fix it . . . He didn't **tell** anyone, he consulted Doc and Catherine guessed . . . I should have guessed, should have seen it . . . He pulled me off **my** homicide investigation to work the Lyford case because of the ticking clock and the sheriff on our backs . . . but he did follow up on my case and helped me close it . . . He gave the Waters case to Catherine even though it was Nick's and mine! . . . But – what if Delhomme would have only spoken to me? Or Nick? Catherine was just using his bent against him to solve the case . . . **Arrrgh**!_

Resting her head in her hands for a moment, Sara shook away the arguments, knowing she was just driving herself crazy, talking in circles again. _Unless I can find a way to crawl inside that brilliant mind of his and see what he's feeling, thinking, I don't know if I'll ever understand him,_ she groused, gathering up her files into a neat stack. _Better see if there's anything else I need to do, there's nothing more I can do on this case until we get a break somewhere._

With a deep breath, the brunette headed out of the room, striding over to the reception desk to check her box. She sighed at the pile of paperwork that had appeared since start of shift, but was distracted by a blushing Judie tucking something hurriedly away beneath the counter. "Something good from your Secret Santa?" Sara asked with a grin.

The receptionist's blush deepened as she nodded. "Yeah, a night out at the Venetian, for my boyfriend and I," she giggled. Then her eyes widened as she spotted the gift left sitting in the other woman's box as she removed the papers atop it. "Now when did your Santa put that there?" Judie demanded of herself, glaring at the mail slots. "I put those memos in the boxes an hour ago, and **no one's** been back here since then! I mean, Dr. Grissom, Catherine, Mandy and Greg all stopped by to clear their boxes, but they didn't come behind the counter," she huffed, piqued that the person had managed to slip the package in under her very nose.

Blinking in amusement at the smaller woman's indignation, Sara picked up the gaily wrapped present and tucked it into her pocket. "You know that Santa is a master of not being seen," she teased as she headed back to her workstation, all the while thinking over the fact that both Greg and Grissom had been near the reception counter, discounting the two women as possibilities. _They both could have slipped it in, Greg can be very sneaky when he wants to, and Griss is the quietest man I've ever met._ Brain spinning with possibilities, she closed her door for a moment of privacy to open her gift.

Sara gaze shifted between the card and the present for a long moment before she decided to open the gift first. Slowly she peeled back the green foil, and her eyes widened at the blue velvet box that was revealed. Her fingers trembled slightly as she flipped open the lid, to gaze upon a necklace of five, gradated, interlocked gold rings on a delicate gold chain. The central ring had several Chinese characters inscribed on it, she realized, though she didn't know what they meant. With a shake of her head, she grabbed the envelope and hurriedly pulled out the card within.

_My dearest Sara,_

_Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength; loving someone deeply gives you courage . . . something I have been slow to acknowledge and believe in. But while love may be too strong a word to yet share between us, believe that my feelings for you do run deep, and I am finding my courage to share this and more with you._

_On the third day of Gift Exchange, Secret Santa gives to thee . . . five gold rings._

_It is said that a circle is an unbroken line which has no beginning and no end. It represents a completeness which encompasses all space and time. Bound within this circle I have set symbols that represent the path you and I have tread together, how I see you, and hope that you see me. But I leave the definition of them for you to discover, a puzzle for the great criminalist that you are._

_Until tomorrow, my dearest Sara, Merry Christmas._

_Your Secret Santa_

"But . . . I don't speak or read Chinese, damn it!" Sara burst out, staring at the necklace in consternation. "And there are thousands of characters, how on earth am I going to find out what these–" she quickly counted, "–five mean!" Rapidly running through the various techs in her head, she briefly debated seeing if Ronnie in QD could help her, before deciding to start with Archie in AV. She was more comfortable with the AV technician in some ways, and felt that his varied interests would be of more help. _Besides, I might still need Ronnie to help me figure out the handwriting . . ._ A moment of doubt slipped into her thoughts as she recalled Judie mentioning both Catherine and Mandy as being near the mailboxes. _The handwriting **does** have a feminine feel, but it doesn't look like either of their hands . . ._

Shaking off the thought, she strode down the hallway to the AV Lab, her pace increasing as she heard Grissom and Brass talking in the hall somewhere behind her.

* * *

><p>Brass lengthened his stride to keep up with a fast moving Grissom. "Here I'm looking for three guys, but you only found one hammer with blood on it, so who do you want me to follow?"<p>

"Me," Grissom replied to the detective as he turned into the lab where he'd left Warrick earlier that day. "What's up?" has asked the green-eyed man studying a photo of the bloody shoe tread they'd found at the construction site.

"The shoe tread I found at the scene - it's a World Industries Diablo." Setting down the photo, the CSI turned the laptop around so Brass and Grissom can see what he's found. "It's a skate shoe. Size 11."

"On a construction worker?" the detective asked skeptically.

"Screams 'teenager,' I know," Warrick nodded in response.

"Why is Gregory Curtwell hanging out with teenage boys?" queried the nightshift supervisor, trying to put the new evidence into some context that makes sense.

"Well," Warrick said thoughtfully, "he has a teenage sister."

"And the sister and Brian Haddick were both students at McKinley High," Brass added, seeing where this was going.

Nodding his head, Grissom replied, "I bet the shoe also goes to school there." Sharing a glance with the two men, he straightened up. "Okay, we need to head over there and get a look at their shoes. Do we need a warrant?" he asked the detective, who shook his head slowly.

"Shoes are plain sight, so we should be okay," he rejoined as Warrick quickly packed up the evidence.

"I'll let Sara know where we're going, she was waiting on more results from Trace and DNA last I checked, and let her know to be ready to join us if we find something," the entomologist said. "I'll meet you at the car," he added to Warrick as he headed out.

* * *

><p>Not finding Sara in the room he'd last seen her in, Grissom peered around the halls, hoping for a glimpse of the slender brunette. With a sigh, he pulled out his pager and shot her a quick message. He didn't want her feeling like she was being left out of the loop on the investigation, but there was no need for all three of them to be at the high school checking out sneakers.<p>

* * *

><p>"Hey, Archie, you busy?" Sara asked as she slipped into the AV Lab. She stopped short with a wide grin as she spotted the Asian man hurriedly stuffing what looked like figurines back into a snowman gift bag. "Oooh, what did you get from Santa today, Arch?"<p>

A slight blush colored the man's cheeks as he glanced over at Sara and sighed. Reaching back into the bag he sheepishly pulled out a Blue Power Ranger Action Figure.

Biting back a chuckle, the brunette rested her hand on his shoulder and winked. "Well, someone knows you pretty well, hmm? Did they get you the full set, or just the Blue Ranger?" she asked softly, remembering him going on about the series that helped launch the Fox Kids network back in the early 90s.

"The full set," Archie grinned, still looking a little sheepish, but his eyes sparkled with delight. "I actually used to have these, but they were appropriated by a cousin of mine and pretty trashed by the time I got them back." Tucking the figure safely back into the bag and stashing it under his desk, he turned back to the CSI, trying for a modicum of professionalism. "So, got some work for me on a case?"

It was Sara's turn to blush as she shook her head. "Noooo . . . this is personal, but I do need your help," she said with a shy grin of her own before hurrying on. "I need to find out what some Chinese characters mean, and I haven't a clue where to start hunting!"

The AV tech shook his head at the frustration apparent in the brunette's voice. "Your Santa being all mysterious on you, eh?"

"You have **no** idea!" she rejoined with a huff. Placing the jewelry box down on his desk, she flipped open the lid. "Can you help me find out what these mean?" the brunette asked, unable to meet Archie's eyes, sure he was laughing at her now.

A soft whistle split the quiet of the room as he gazed at the lovely necklace. "Let me take a picture so I can scan the symbols in, and then I think I should be able to get you a translation before shift ends." He patted her shoulder and set to work, grinning as she jumped when her pager went off.

"Grissom and Warrick are heading to McKinley High to track down some shoes? Looks like I'm on standby until they get back or need me to join them if they find anything worth checking out," Sara muttered, staring at the message from her boss. She felt both irked that she'd been left behind, and pleased that he was making the effort to keep her appraised, especially since he'd ended the short message with a 'Sorry, couldn't find you.' Coming back to herself as she felt Archie's curious gaze, she smiled and rose from her chair, pocketing the velvet box since he was done taking his photos. With a soft "Page me when you get something?" she was out the door and back to work.

* * *

><p>Grissom had just finished talking to Brass about the Benny Lizzio interview. Shaking his head in disbelief he entered the lab where Sara and Warrick were going through the piles of evidence the pair had pulled from the boy's home.<p>

Warrick looked up as his boss came in, closely followed by Greg, trying to get a read on his mood. "Did he roll?

"Brass says the kid is looking forward to going to jail," the supervisor responded, still a bit stunned at the kid's blase attitude about incarceration. "So, what do we got here?"

Waving his hand at the full table, the dark-skinned man replied, "It's hard to tell what's relevant and what's trash. This is everything we brought back from Benny's party room."

The older man picked up a small evidence bag of rubber bands, looking at it in confusion. "Are these . . . Spaghetti-oh's?" he asked, looking across the table at Sara.

A gentle smirk curled her lips. "I don't think so."

From the doorway where he was waiting, playing with a piece of paper in his hands, Greg piped up. "Nah. Nah, those would be orthodontic rubber bands." He met Grissom's curious gaze and continued. "Hook 'em to your braces, uh, upper to lower. Helps pull the jaw in the right direction. Also great for flinging. Yeah, I had it all – palate expander, braces, retainer, head gear. Ah, five years of misery, but worth every penny, don't you think?" he finished, flashing a toothy grin over at Sara, showing his perfect teeth.

Shaking his head, Grissom opened up another evidence bag, extracting a vial of lip gloss, and smelling it.

Turning back to the boss, Greg said thoughtfully, "Um, there might be some saliva residue on them. I can see what I can pull off, if you want."

"Yeah. Would you?" Sara asked, as she turned over another bag on the table.

"Well, you're going to need something. Strike three on the knuckles," the DNA tech said regretfully, handing the paper with the test results to the brunette.

Warrick huffed in consternation, "Benny's DNA doesn't match. Gregory's doesn't match. Ashley's doesn't match. Who did this guy hit?"

"Greg, test both of these," Grissom interrupted, handing Greg the two evidence bags containing the lip gloss and the rubber bands. "If a third guy has braces, it may explain the strange pattern on Brian's hand." With a determined nod, the DNA tech exited the room.

Still sorting through bags, Sara mused, "It's probably another student, but Benny's not talking."

"Benny has a party room, right?" Warrick asked, searching through the evidence in front of him. "You can't have a party without the music. I found some new CD's in his room." He held out the bag to his boss.

Grissom looked at the CD's in the evidence bag, reading the label. "What's 'C & D'?"

Sharing a quick look with Sara over the things their supervisor didn't know, Warrick answered, "It's like a music club, twelve CDs for the price of one."

Studying the label on the topmost CD, the bearded man asked,"And Aaron Gilbert was . . . ?" His gaze was on Warrick, but he was aware that Sara suddenly was searching through the plastic evidence bags with a purpose.

"The deejay maybe?" the younger man posited.

Lifting up a bag containing a piece of smashed watermelon with a label on it, Sara looked at the two men, holding the bag out to her boss. "You know, at this time of year, watermelon isn't cheap, particularly organic. Maybe the music isn't the only thing that Aaron Gilbert brought to the party."

With one of his pleased grins, Grissom nodded at the young brunette. "Good eyes, Sara. You and Warrick catch Brass and follow this up, see what you can find out. I'll see what else needs processed from this," he waved at the tabletop. "Page me with any updates, I'll do the same." Then he settled down to sorting as his younger colleagues made their way out of the room, Sara already phoning for the captain.

* * *

><p>Signing the last tape on the box, Grissom lugged it down the hall to the evidence locker. Sara was busy with Greg, giving him samples from both Aaron and Jared Gilbert, the two boys that Brass, Warrick and she had brought in that afternoon. The boys' mother had given the criminalists a bloody hammer and a twenty dollar bill with a bloody fingerprint that she had found in the older boy's room<p>

With Warrick and Brass were doing the preliminary interviews of the Gilbert brothers, there wasn't much more the supervisor could do but wait. Most of the tests wouldn't be ready for them until the next shift at best, but with the blood from the hammer matching Haddick's blood type, and the pattern of the younger Gilbert's braces a match to the wound on the victim's fist, they had enough to hold the two boys for now.

Shaking his head, he headed toward his office to wait for the interview notes, and send his people home for the day.

* * *

><p>Sara left Greg setting up the tests on the Gilbert boys' DNA, and headed down the hall to check in with Grissom when her pager went off. Seeing Archie's name, she rapidly detoured over to the AV lab. "You have something for me?" she asked eagerly, having had little time since leaving him earlier to think about the puzzle of her necklace.<p>

"Indeed I do, Ms. Sidle," he grinned, holding out a folded piece of paper to her. "Five symbols, spaced evenly about the circle. The topmost one is listed first, then the next two on the right side, top to bottom, followed by the left two, again top to bottom. I did them that way since that's how Chinese is read, and it seemed to make the most sense with the meanings," Archie concluded with a wink.

Blushing, Sara murmured a "Thank you," before taking the page and quickly leaving the room. As she moved down the hall she saw Grissom entering his office and decided to detour one more time, ducking into an empty room to check out the paper Archie had printed for her.

_Topmost symbol represents Intellect. Righthand symbols are Friendship and Happiness. Lefthand symbols are Joy and Love!_ she read, her eyes going large at the last one. Clutching the page to her chest, it took her a long moment to catch her breath and recover her composure enough to head off to the debriefing, her thoughts spinning with hope.


	6. Chapter 6

_AN: Wow, this wound up being another long chapter, with the case weaving around the other things I wanted to say. At least two chapters to finish this one off, and thank you to all who are enjoying this. I'm having a blast writing it!_

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><p><em><strong>Thursday, December 18th<strong>_

"Good morning, Griss," Nick called out as he entered the locker room, startling the older man. The clang of his locker slamming shut sounded loud in the room. The Texan smothered a smile, having spied a blue and white gift bag just before the closed door blocked his view.

"Ah, good morning, Nick," Grissom answered back, striving to look casual as other members of the night shift began drifting in behind the younger man. An arched eyebrow preceded his wry comment of "Did everyone come in early today?" as he tucked his briefcase under his arm.

Laughing as she walked past him, Catherine retorted, "Yeah, like we'd manage to not do that for more than a few days." Then she grinned as she tucked a large bag into her locker. "Besides, it's getting harder to sneak these Secret Santa gifts around without someone seeing what you're doing. Coming in early is strategy, Gil."

Warrick nodded in agreement, his jacket draped casually over something in his hands that he hurriedly shoved into his own locker. "Though with everyone coming in early, I think the strategy is backfiring here, Cath," the lanky, green-eyed man teased.

The strawberry blonde stuck her tongue out at him just as Sara strolled into the room. "Okay, what did I miss?" she asked, watching the entomologist smile and the boys laugh as Catherine flounced out of the room. "Come on!" she pouted as Warrick and Nick followed the other woman out.

"Warrick was just yanking Catherine's chain again," Grissom chuckled, waiting for her at the door as she put her purse away, catching a glimpse of red and green striped tissue paper peeking over the edge of the bag. "With how easy that is, you'd think he'd get tired of doing so, but . . ." he ended with a smiling shrug, walking with Sara to the breakroom. "Let me grab my files, and we'll get the briefing done and see if we can wrap our case," he murmured as he moved past her to his office.

Sara watched him go for a moment, her mind once again spinning with possibilities. Taking a deep breath and sending up a soft Christmas wish, she turned into the breakroom to join her colleagues and get her first cup of coffee for the day.

* * *

><p>". . . and the genius decided to do target practice in his backyard in the middle of the suburbs! Never even realized he'd missed the target with his final bullet . . ." Nick finished, reviewing his case of DFO turned voluntary manslaughter for his supervisor. He put the papers back into his file, straightening it up. "I'll get this finalized and on your desk for your signature by end of shift, Griss," he added, leaning back in his chair.<p>

"Good work, Nicky. Make sure and note down the help that Bobby gave you on this so I can add it to his file, okay?" Grissom waited for the younger man's nod, then shuffled through his notes. "Catherine, you and Nick are on standby in case anything new pops up, otherwise catch up on your paperwork." Then he turned to his remaining two criminalists. "Let's see where the labs are on our evidence, and then meet back here with Brass and go over what we have."

The room emptied as they all headed off to their varied tasks.

* * *

><p>Back in the breakroom, the three criminalists and Brass went over what they had on the Haddick case, trying to make sense of the evidence.<p>

"We have a problem," Sara pointed out. "We have three hammers and four suspects."

Warrick leaned forward, making notes in his file. "Well, the Gilbert brothers both seem ready to go down for it."

"And Benny can't wait to go to jail," Brass added, shaking his head.

Leaning on her hand, the brunette wondered, "If they were defending Ashley against an attacker, why not say so?"

"They weren't." Grissom submitted, waving away the defense possibility as he pointed out, "The smashed watermelon suggests the whole thing was premeditated."

"Making the motive robbery?" Sara half-stated, half-asked, gazing at her boss.

"Well, Benny, Aaron and Jared each had about $125 worth of cash and assorted prizes," the detective reminded them of the new items found with the three boys.

"$375," the supervisor's voice mused. "Brian's parents said that he was being paid $500 every two weeks. Cash under the table."

"It was payday," Sara realized. "So who got the other $125?"

"Well, Gregory Curtwell makes good money," pointed out Warrick. "A hundred twenty-five bucks is a spit in the ocean for a construction worker." A light suddenly dawned for Sara as the green-eyed man spoke. "If he wasn't defending his sister, then he has no motive."

Still working the pieces himself, Grissom noticed the brunette looking through her file as Brass added, "Well, if he didn't do it, how did his hammer end up with Brian's blood on it?"

Sara spoke up as she flipped through the receipts found with Ashley's abandoned, bloody clothes. "Clothing–$85 . . . earrings–$30 . . ." Her gaze came up to lock with Grissom's. ". . . coffee–four dollars. Getting away with murder . . ."

". . . priceless," the older man finished, his gaze never leaving her brown eyes.

The quartet scattered: Brass to talk to Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert, Mr. Lizzio and Gregory Curtwell, tying up the connections between the four teens; Warrick headed to DNA to see if Greg had anything yet for them on the swabs from the Gilbert boys and the blood on the twenty that had been found in Jared's room; Sara went to see if Jacqui or Mandy had matched the fingerprint from the twenty to any of their suspects. Grissom left them to it as he checked up on new cases, handing a 401C to Catherine and a 409 to Nick, before settling in to lowering the paperwork stacks on his desk again. His team knew to page him when they had news–it was only a matter of time before they'd be talking to their suspects again.

* * *

><p>A few hours had passed, and the results were interesting to say the least. The blood on the $20 was the victim's, Brian Haddick, but the print came back to Ashley Curtwell, not one of the three boys. DNA from Haddick's fist had definitively matched to Jared Gilbert's, and the blood on the hammer with Aaron's fingerprints also matched to Haddick. They had them, and it was time to let them know.<p>

While Warrick and Brass took another crack at the three boys, Sara went to re-interview Ashley Curtwell. Seeing that the men were getting nowhere with the three that had obviously wielded the hammers, Grissom moved to the observation room to watch the girl's reaction.

"The hand that holds the wallet is the hand that rules the world. Huh, Ashley?" Sara asked. She placed photos on the table in front of the girl, watching as she looked away nervously. "Your fingerprint in Brian's blood on Jared's money. This is what we call 'completing the triangle'."

"Okay. So he attacked me, and I did see who defended me." Ashley shifted in her chair, eyes darting around as she spun her story. "But I didn't want to get my friends in trouble, and the money was for, like . . . like, pain and suffering–"

Sara interrupted, her tone stern. "You weren't attacked, Ashley. Brian was. We figured none of the boys wore cotton candy, so we had it tested." As the girl's eyes briefly met the criminalist's, she placed the evidence bag with the lip gloss on the table atop the picture of the bloody fingerprint. "Turns out you were at Benny's house, too. Urging the boys on in their practice?" she theorized, watching the young woman's eyes dart nervously about the room. "At the mall, you weren't in shock, you were celebrating," she continued, adding the receipts to the table.

Blue eyes intent, Grissom watched the girl do everything she could to avoid meeting Sara's intense gaze and damning words.

"Your brother was up in Tahoe this past weekend, wasn't he?" the brunette asked softly, waving away the possibility that the older Curtwell had been involved in the attack in any way.

Sadly, the girl replied, "He goes away almost every weekend–"

Her tone unyielding, Sara interrupted once again. "You know, I'm done with the Ashley pity party. My guess is Aaron and Jared only had one hammer, but you had access to your brother's tools. Why Brian?" she asked softly.

Grissom watched as Ashley Curtwell's entire demeanor changed from a scared little girl to bored and blase teen. "Before he went straight, we were buds," she retorted, her eyes cold. "But then he got too good for us. But he wasn't too good to want to get with this," she shrugged, her hands briefly indicating herself.

"You're not a victim, you were a lure," Sara said with a mixture of sorrow and disdain while the girl just stared at her. "Do you know how many people don't report a rape because they're afraid that no one will believe them?" she couldn't help but ask, wondering if there was anything human in the teen that sat across from her.

Ashley just stared back, wide-eyed and unconcerned. "Of course. It's what I was counting on."

Thoroughly disgusted with the heartless creature before her, Sara promised, "I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure that you're tried as an adult."

A sly grin curled the lips of their suspect, making Grissom shudder at the coldness of the girl. "Good luck," Ashley smiled, wide-eyed and innocent looking. "I dress up real nice – couple barrettes . . . little lace collar . . . two dead parents . . . I'll be the saddest little girl in the world," she stated, staring back at Sara with those cold, heartless eyes.

"Take her to be processed," the criminalist ground out, watching the officer cuff the girl and take her from the room. A deep sigh escaped her as she began to gather up the evidence. She was so deep in thought that she startled when the door opened and Grissom entered the room.

"Lizzio and the Gilberts aren't talking, yet, but I can't help but wonder if they will be quite so blase about jail when they realize they'll also be tried as adults for this crime," the curly haired man intoned softly as he moved to help the brunette pack away the photographs.

"You heard her, Grissom," Sara grimaced, realizing he must have been watching with his comment about trying the teens as adults. "She's going to play the 'poor little abandoned girl' card, and a jury is going to lap it up!"

Smiling gently, he tilted his head as he watched her huff in consternation. "She can try, Sara, but something that Ms. Curtwell seems to have forgotten . . . we have **all** of her statements on video tape, including that last damning declaration. She'll be tried as an adult, and she'll be going away for some time to think about all the ways her life has gone wrong."

His gentle words reassured her, and the warmth of his eyes and smile helped to ease the cold knot in her middle. Gathering up the last of the evidence, she nodded, and at his courtly gesture, preceded him out the door. They walked quietly through the halls for a bit, before she glanced sideways at him. He seemed much more relaxed lately, she had to admit, and much more engaged in all aspects of the team. _But that only makes sense with all that he was going through last year,_ she mused, still a little piqued that he'd never told her about his mother's deafness or his own problems. _To be fair, I don't tell him, or anyone, all of my problems, either, so who am I to complain. And if he believed Gerard . . . he had no reason to confide in me,_ she sighed to herself, wishing again there was some way to go back and rewrite the last couple of years, or at least edit certain portions.

Grissom glanced over at Sara as he heard her sigh, watching her profile and recognizing that she was deep in thought over something. But before he could even think of something to say, Hodges popped out of his lab in front of them.

"Hey, Boss, I put those reports on your desk for you, since I couldn't find Warrick around and he didn't answer my page," the obsequious man stated importantly, not noticing Sara rolling her eyes at his brown-nosing. "And I happened to see that there was something with your name on it under the breakroom tree . . . yours as well, Sara," he added, as if just noticing she was present.

Nodding her head, the brunette couldn't help but notice the tightness that had appeared in Grissom's face as he waited for the lab tech to finish.

"Thank you, David . . . and don't call me 'Boss'," he said as he continued on his way, his stride lengthening as he moved toward his office.

"Better be careful of anything he brings in for snacks," the smarmy man continued to her before Sara could follow the entomologist in his escape. "I heard he got some insect cookbooks for his gift yesterday, so who knows what he might be eating!"

Though she herself wouldn't be caught dead eating insects if she could help it, Sara couldn't help defending Grissom from the sycophantic technician. "Entomophagy takes place in eighty percent of the world's nations, Hodges, and is a good source of protein, vitamins and minerals." She eyed the man who was staring at her, appalled. "And you might want to check out the FDA's guidelines for maximum permissible levels of insect contamination in food products for humans before you worry about what Grissom might be cooking up." With an impish grin, she left him standing in the hallway looking a little shell-shocked as she headed into the breakroom.

Grissom hadn't arrived yet, but Greg was slouched low in a chair, sipping from a large mug of coffee. "You brew up some of the good stuff?" Sara asked as she grabbed a mug for herself, breathing deeply of the pleasing odor. Her smile was warm as the younger man grinned up at her.

"Anything for you, Sara m'sweet," he drawled with a playful wink, one hand over his heart. "And, if you didn't know, your Santa left something for you," Greg added with a wave of his hand toward the tree.

Glaring back at him just as playfully, her eyes were drawn to a blue and white gift bag that had her name boldly printed on the tag. Her thoughts churned as she recalled that Greg had been one of the names Judie had told her was around the reception desk right before her present yesterday had appeared . . . and he had been lurking about the day before that when she arrived, following her to the breakroom and sorting out the gifts as if to make sure she got hers right away . . . _Greg's sweet, but **please** don't let him by my Santa!_ she thought as she picked up the bag and made her way over to a seat at the table just as Grissom breezed into the room, grumbling softly to himself.

Greg rose up at the sight of the entomologist, waiting until he'd poured himself a cup of coffee before speaking. "The last of the tests were processing before I went on break–" he quickly glanced up at the clock, "–fifteen minutes ago, so another hour and I'll have the final reports for you."

"Good work, Greg," Grissom nodded, watching the young man leave before moving to sit at his usual spot. He blinked, a little startled, as he saw the gift bag perched on his chair just in time. Lifting up the present, he smiled at the ornament hanging off the tag: a beaded spider. The entomologist laughed softly, unhooking it from the handle and moving it over to the Christmas tree, careful to leave the tag with his name on it attached to the ornament to retrieve when the tree was taken down.

Sara couldn't help herself, and arose to look closer at the spider, and the legend that was printed on the back of the tag. "So spiders are the reason we put tinsel on our trees, hmmm?" she chortled, looking into his sparkling blue eyes as he shrugged sheepishly.

"So the legend goes," he murmured, before returning to the table to open his present with a boyish eagerness. Soon he was smiling widely as he unearthed a selection of classic horror films, all with giant insects in them. Sara watched with a grin of her own as he laid out _**Them!**_, _**Tarantula**_, _**The Deadly Mantis**_, _**The Fly**_ (with Vincent Price), and _**Mothra**_ on the table. "I haven't seen some of these in years," Grissom said with delight, his hand resting lightly on last video as his gaze took on a far away look.

"Good memories?" Sara ventured, loving the look on his face.

"Yeah, Mom took me to see _**Mothra**_ in the theatre . . . it was the summer of '62, a double bill with _**The Three Stooges in Orbit**_," he dredged up with a laugh. "I was almost six. The rest of these I had to wait for a rerelease to catch them in the theatre . . . I wasn't even born when _**Them!**_ came out the first time." Shaking his head at the memories, he shared a shy smile with the brunette watching him, a light blush darkening his ears as he sipped his coffee. With an effort, he pulled his gaze away from hers, flipping over one of the cases to read the back while he regained his composure.

Giving him the space he obviously needed, Sara hid her delighted grin at the fact that he'd just shared something so personal with her, and dove into her own gift bag. As her fingers pushed aside the tissue paper, she felt something soft and silky beneath. Her gaze flicked over at the man nearby, but he seemed totally oblivious, absorbed in reading his DVD cases. Cautiously she pulled out the first piece of silk, exhaling in both relief and delight as she realized that she was holding a pale, mottled blue, watered silk scarf. There was intricate embroidery decorating the fabric, a variety of miniscule birds and butterflies in flight.

Grissom cagily watched Sara's delight from the corner of his eye, being careful to seem engrossed with his own gift, 'reading' the back of each DVD thoroughly. His grin was deliberately hidden behind his mug as she pulled out several more scarves, her delicate touch caressing the varied colors with pleasure. He'd had a great deal of fun buying the filmy scarves for her, imagining each one gracing her slender throat, and pleased with the variety he'd been able to find. They reminded him of the book borders in hand-painted medieval books, tiny, intricate shapes intertwined with natural imagery.

Sara was dumbstruck, staring at the delicate shades and patterns of the scarves covered with embroidered birds, animals, insects and plants. All beautiful, all colors and images she loved, and all amazing. Her fingers trembled slightly as she plucked the now expected envelope from the bag, and pulled out the card.

_My dearest Sara,_

_A bird doesn't sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song. ~Chinese Proverb_

_On the fourth day of Gift Exchange, Secret Santa gives to thee . . . four colly birds, three French hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree._

_As a bird does what it does because it must, what I feel for you is what is meant to be. I cannot explain it, define it, discover the reasons for it, it just is. I hope that the song of my feelings can, with your care and patience, someday become a duet._

_Until tomorrow, my dearest Sara, Merry Christmas._

_Your Secret Santa_

_Wow!_ the slender woman thought as she carefully picked up one of the scarves and knotted it about her neck, slipping the others back into the bag along with the card. Her eyes rose, locking for a long moment with Grissom's as his blue eyes widened with appreciation. She could **feel** his approval at how she looked, and smiled in turn as his ears reddened again at her warm gaze. In that moment, the discomfort and awkwardness of the past few years disappeared, and the camaraderie and attraction that had always been a part of their relationship flared up strong and sweet. Staring into his eyes, Sara's thoughts swirled as she reassembled pieces of personal evidence into a new picture, hoping she wasn't indulging in just wishful thinking.

The brunette was shaken out of her revery as other members of the night shift drifted into the room, seeking coffee and relaxation at the end of another long day. "Movie night, Gil?" Catherine asked with a chuckle, seeing the DVD in his hand, then shuddering at the image of the enormous tarantula on the cover. "Umm, never mind," she muttered, veering off to the coffee machine as Grissom grinned crookedly after her.

Nick settled onto the sofa with a sigh. "Talk about an easy case, Gris," he laughed. "The driver offered me a beer as I was waiting to process his car!" The Texan shook his head. "File's on your desk, ready for your signature."

Joining in the laughter as he settled in next to Sara at the table, Warrick spoke up next. "Interview notes are on your desk, ready for the file. I think Jared Gilbert might go for a plea deal . . . he seemed pretty shaken when we told him we're looking to try them as adults for premeditated murder."

"Benny and Aaron are still holding to their belief that they'll be in juvie for a few years," Brass added from the doorway, nodding his thanks as Catherine brought him over a mug. "But their lawyers are more savvy, so we may see a change of heart there, by the time they're arraigned."

"What about Ashley?" Sara asked, her good humor slipping a little at the thought of the cold-hearted ringleader of the murder plot.

"She's in a bit of shock that her brother is **not** going to help her out of the mess she's gotten herself into. And I don't think the DA is going to offer her any kind of deal, since the evidence is showing her to be the brains as well as the lure behind the killing," the detective offered as he sat down beside the young woman, his blue eyes sparkling as he noted the new scarf about her throat.

"So why did they do it?" Catherine asked, leaning against the counter nearby.

"Because Haddick got 'too good' for them," the brunette criminalist sighed, shaking her head.

"'All violence is the result of people tricking themselves into believing that their pain derives from other people and that consequently those people deserve to be punished,'" Grissom intoned as he slipped his gift back into the bag and rose from the table. "Haddick was trying to straighten his life out, at the behest of his parents. His friends believed that he had abandoned them, betrayed them. And now they will live with the results of their beliefs for the rest of their lives." With a shrug, he slipped out of the room, heading to his office to finish what paperwork he could before heading home.

* * *

><p><em>AN: For those without a handy list, here is the definition number given for the two cases Gris sent Cathering and Nick out on: 401C = Accident (private property), 409 = Drunk Driver. And for your writing pleasure, here is a site that lists all the radio codes for Nevada (since they do differ some from state to state): www dot bearcat1 dot com slash radionv dot htm<em>


	7. Chapter 7

_**Friday, December 19th**_

Grissom scrubbed a tired hand over his face as he trekked into the crime lab, his arms laden with evidence bags and jars. It was still a half an hour before start of shift, but he'd been called in after only a couple hours of sleep when Swing had discovered significant insect activity on a suspicious 419 discovered by hikers on the trail to Turtlehead Peak. _It had to be along the only trail marked as 'strenuous,'_ he grumbled to himself as he deposited everything in his office. Stretching out his back, the entomologist was feeling every one of his 47 years and more at the moment, and he still had his own shift to get started. Quickly sorting through the jars, he set live specimens to one side, checking that they were still viable and the lids properly ventilated. Once he was certain nothing would die before he got a chance to sort it all properly, he headed out to the front desk to get the current cases from his box.

Looking at the dusty man in surprise, Judie turned and fetched the contents of his box as he approached. "Is everything all right, Dr. Grissom?" she asked, not used to seeing the man looking quite so tired and dusty before his shift had even begun.

He gave her a tired smile. "Body with bugs out in Red Rock," he murmured, his attention already focusing on the slips in his hand, deciding which case to give to each of his criminalists. With an absent minded wave, he turned and headed down the hall to the breakroom.

* * *

><p>The scent of fresh coffee brought his attention back to his surroundings, and he smiled with pleasure as he saw the spiky haired DNA tech standing beside the coffee maker, waiting somewhat impatiently for the brew to finish. "Is that for everyone, Greg?" the night supervisor rumbled, coming up behind him.<p>

"Hey, Griss! You're in early," the younger man said as he whirled around to blink at the sight of his rather dusty and rumpled boss. "Uh, yeah, I thought the shift could use some high octane to get through this last long shift."

"That's good thinking, thank you. And I was called early for Swing to check a DB with insect activity out at Red Rock," Grissom replied to the implied but unspoken question. "I'll have some samples for you to run in a bit, and by the looks of these cases, there may be a lot of work for you tonight." He waved the fistful of case slips as he leaned against the counter.

Nodding his head, the younger man poured each of them a mug of coffee, handing one over to Grissom, who nodded his thanks. The older man took a long swallow before moving to his usual seat at the conference table as he heard the sounds of his team heading his way.

The teasing voice of Nick Stokes could be heard as the group of criminalists approached the breakroom. "Why didn't you open your present, Sara?"

"Because maybe I wanted something to look forward to on my break later?" she shot back with a smile in her tone. _And without all your vultures looking over my shoulder,_ she added to herself as she lead the way into the room.

"Good evening, everyone," the supervisor said as his criminalists paused in the doorway, trying not to stare at him. "If you can settle down, we've plenty to keep us busy tonight." He waited patiently as they fetched their own drinks and took their seats. "I'll be continuing the case I was called in on by Swing – suspicious 419 with bugs. Because of that, I'll be in the lab most of the night, so keep me appraised on how you're doing and if you need any help on your cases." Seeing the nods around the table, Grissom pulled up the first slip, looking at his second in command. "Catherine, you have a 407Z at The Meadows Antiquities. Detective Vartann will meet you there." Passing over the slip, he turned his attention to the dark-skinned man sitting beside her. "Warrick, 415 at Club Paradise. Detective Conroy asked for your assistance." He shrugged at the other man's raised eyebrow, only knowing what the slip told him at the moment.

"I have a 401A with injuries for you, Nick. Officer Metcalf requested CSI to help figure out where the fault lies. No traffic cameras are near the scene of the accident." Grissom could already see the wheels turning in the Texan's mind as he thought of what additional equipment he might need at the scene. "Call for an intern if you need the help, but not Greg, he's going to have enough to handle to clear as much DNA as he can before the shift is through."

With a smile the entomologist turned his attention to the final member of his team. "Sara, you get a 431 that ties to an old case of yours that went cold about two months ago, along with a 411A that is apparently another cold case from Days. An officer spotted the license plate on the vehicle and matched it to the Days case, and when they popped the trunk they found the goods that matched your case. The vehicle should arrive in an hour, give or take, so you'll have time to find your notes and review the other one from Dayshift." He handed her the slip, knowing she'd be pleased when she realized which of her cases now had a chance of proper closure.

Glancing at the case number, Sara beamed her gap-toothed smile at her supervisor. "All right!" she nearly crowed, rising and heading out of the room at a trot.

Catherine looked over at Grissom and couldn't help asking, "Care to share, Gil?" as the two younger men made their way out at a slower pace.

"The foster home theft just before Hallowe'en," he murmured, recalling how infuriated the brunette had been when all her leads had gone cold. "Not a bad present for those kids, to get their lost possessions back, eh?" He winked at the redhead before levering himself out of his chair. "I'm going to go knock the dust off and then I'll be in my office," he told his second before heading toward the locker room.

* * *

><p>Popping her head into the entomologist's office, Sara smiled as she saw him totally engrossed in measuring and pinning samples to a styrofoam board. "Hey, Griss," she called, waiting until he looked up to continue. "My car's here and . . . what is that?" she blinked, pointing at the display case containing several mounted glossy, green-brown beetles that she'd never seen before.<p>

"_**Anoplognathus pallidicollis**_, a member of the family _**Scarabaeidae**_, native to Australia and commonly known as the Christmas Beetle since they are most common during their summer months, particularly around Christmas," Grissom explained, gazing at the case with appreciation. "I found it found it sitting on my desk when I returned from showering, with a tag saying 'From Santa'." He shook his head at her laugh and shrugged sheepishly. "Have fun with your car, Sara," he added, before turning back to his work.

* * *

><p>Sara crawled out of the backseat of the dark grey Mercury Marauder, adding yet another pile of evidence bags and tape lifts to the counter. <em>This vehicle is a veritable treasure trove of trace and prints!<em> she thought gleefully, even while knowing that Jacqui and Hodges would be glowering at the amount of evidence she was about to drop on them. Glancing up at the clock, she was shocked to see that she'd been combing the car for over three hours. _Time to check on the interns I left comparing the recovered goods to the claims statements and get some food,_ the brunette grinned, piling the trace evidence into a tray and grabbing the stack of print lifts before heading out of the garage.

* * *

><p>Chuckling at the grousing the print tech was sending after her, Sara swung into the locker room to grab her lunch. She was surprised that none of the rest of the team was around, though from what Jacqui had said, Catherine had already been in to drop off her own load of prints on the technician. As she opened up her locker, the brunette's eyes fell on the brightly wrapped box that had been sitting on the floor in front of her locker when she arrived for shift. Nick had immediately started teasing her about it, wondering who had come in early enough to leave her gift waiting for her, which had led her to shove the present hurriedly into her locker.<p>

Sitting down on the bench, her thoughts again turned to who she thought, **hoped** was her Secret Santa. _Warrick was the one I made the comment to about never having seen a Cirque show . . . but we were in the breakroom at the time,_ she mused, mulling over the pieces of her personal puzzle. _And while Warrick is a flirt, he's never given the vibe of being interested in me – and I don't think he'd hide it if he was._ Her knuckle tapped against her chin as she continued thinking. _Everyone knows how I feel about animals, what with turning vegetarian and the whole case with the gorilla. So that gift doesn't point anywhere in particular. But Wednesday's gift . . . Judie said only Griss, Greg, Mandy and Cath were near the boxes._ She shook away the notion of either lady being so cruel as to play with her emotions by pretending to be in love with her. _. . . so that leaves Greg or Grissom._

Her stomach tightened as she fought her soaring hopes, before her gaze fell on the gift in her locker again. _Well, I did say I was going to save it for my break,_ she mused, before scooping it up to carry with her down to the breakroom.

* * *

><p>Warrick was slouched back on the sofa, a soda can in one hand, and an icepack held to the side of his head in the other when Sara breezed into the room. "What–? Warrick, what happened to you?" she sputtered, dropping her gift and lunch on a chair before moving to sit on the low table in front of her colleague.<p>

"You would **not** believe my case, Sar," the man drawled, his tone tired, but highly amused. He saw the demand in her soft brown eyes, and grinned, stretching out further. "Conroy actually got it worse than I did, I promise you."

"'Rick?" Grissom rushed into the room, snapping his cellphone closed as he spied his CSI. "Brass just told me you'd been hurt and Conroy's at the emergency room? What the hell happened?" he demanded gruffly, feeling his pulse slow somewhat as he could see for himself that the younger man did not look damaged.

"I'm all right, Griss, I swear," Warrick hurriedly reassured his boss, sitting up and setting the icepack to the side. "My 415 turned out to be a bachelor party gone wrong. The wife of the best man was suspicious of her husband, and snuck in to spy on him. She took exception to the free lap dance one of the girls was giving him, and attacked the poor working girl. Lots of scratching and hair pulling later, with accusations being slung, and both the wife and the stripper pressing charges, Detective Conroy calls for CSI help, asks for me since apparently she thinks I won't drool over the ladies," he shrugged, fighting a smile at the near identical looks on the Grissom's and Sara's faces.

"Everything was fine until hubby realized we were going to be taking his wife in for assault, then he decides to stop us. I just got shoved to the ground, knocking my thick skull on a chair on the way down. Conroy got thrown into the bar before the officers could get the squabbling couple into cuffs and out of the Club. She dislocated a shoulder and had some minor cuts, that's all, and the groom is out one best man for his wedding."

Shaking his head in disbelief, Grissom ran his fingers through his greying curls. "And you didn't call to fill me in because . . . ?"

Eyes widening as he realized he hadn't phoned in, Warrick groaned. "A jeeze, Griss, I'm sorry. I only got back to the lab like fifteen minutes ago, and dropped off all the samples I'd collected on Greg, and my film on Archie before coming in here to rest. I'm not hurt, honest, so I didn't think to call you . . ." His voice trailed off as he looked at Sara for help, but she waved her hands, letting him know he was on his own.

The supervisor blew out a deep breath, one hand, Sara noticed, surreptitiously checking his pulse. "Brass only knew that you'd been hurt, and was checking with me to see how bad. Don't do that to me, all right?" he groused, before turning and striding quickly out of the room in the direction of his office, flipping open his phone on the way.

Eyes wide, the two criminalists stared after their boss for a moment before they both exhaled. "I should have called him," Warrick muttered, rubbing his sore head in consternation.

"Yeah, but Brass jumped the gun calling him, 'Rick. Griss will be all right once he gets a chance to cool down," Sara reassured him, patting his knee before moving over to the table to start her lunch. As she bit into her sandwich, she could feel eyes watching her. While she tried to ignore it, she finally turned around and growled, "What?"

"Nice looking box there, Sidle, going to open it?" the man drawled, his green eyes twinkling.

Turning back and trying to look nonchalant, the brunette shrugged. "What's it to you?"

"Oh, nothing. Just thought it looked familiar, like I saw it in the back of someone's car the other day," he rejoined, smirking as he saw her spine stiffen, knowing she was suddenly very interested in what he had to say.

"Really?" Sara asked as casually as she could, not daring to look at her colleague at the moment.

Slowly standing and putting the icepack back into the freezer, Warrick made a sound of affirmation. "But, since I don't want to risk getting chewed out for a second time tonight, I think I better get back to work." And with a smug grin he strolled out of the room, feeling the brunette's glare on his back as he went.

* * *

><p>It had taken all of Sara's resolve not to chase Warrick down and try to browbeat whatever he knew out of him. With a huff, she pushed aside her unfinished lunch and pulled the gold and silver wrapped box toward her. Wavering for a moment, she slowly tore open the wrapping and lifted the lid to peer inside.<p>

A decorative basket filled to the brim with small jars of lotions and vials of bath oils met her gaze. And the pleasant odors rising from within made her close her eyes with delight. She could immediately discern the stronger scents of ginger, orange, mint, and chocolate, but other, subtler scents eluded her at the moment. Picking up the centermost vial, she read "Frankincense" on the decorative label.

Smiling widely, she searched for the card, pulling it open to read:

_My dearest Sara,_

_There's a love that only you can give, a smile that only your lips can show, a twinkle that can only be seen in your eyes and my life that only you can complete. ~Unknown_

_On the fifth day of Gift Exchange, Secret Santa gives to thee . . . frankincense and myrrh._

_It would seem that I have completed the traditional twelve gifts of love already, so I must hearken back to even older gifts of the season to complete this week properly. It is said that the sense of smell is the strongest for recalling pleasant memories, so allow me to gift you with the scents of the season._

_I look forward to revealing myself to you tomorrow night, my dear, and offer one last bit of whimsy to help you in finding me. I'll be wearing a mistletoe boutonniere._

_Until tomorrow night, my dearest Sara, Merry Christmas._

_Your Secret Santa_

* * *

><p>The last hours of their shift wound down with most of them ending up in the breakroom filling out paperwork. The techs stopped in periodically to drop off results or get refills on coffee, but none of them had seen Grissom for some time. Catherine had popped her head in shortly after she returned to the lab from PD to see how he was doing and let the rest of them know that he was catching a nap on the couch in his office.<p>

"So let me get this straight," Warrick said, shaking his head over Nick's case. "Your traffic accident had a 414B added to it when some enterprising soul stole a bag out of the back of one of the vehicles. **And** that vehicle just happened to be owned by an animal control officer, that had captured a rattlesnake at a neighbor's house and was bringing it into the office for proper handling . . . and that is what was in the bag this dude stole?"

Laughing, Nick nodded. "And not just any rattlesnake, apparently, but a–" he scrambled through his notes for the proper designation. "A Southwestern Speckled Rattlesnake, _C. m. pyrrhus_, supposed to be one of the–"

"Most common rattlesnakes around Las Vegas," a yawning voice concluded from the doorway. The four criminalists turned to look at the doorway. Grissom smiled at them as he made his way over to the coffepot. "Did they recover the snake, Nick?" he asked, leaning back against the counter.

"Yeah, we did. We heard yelling from an alley nearby, and found the perp holding his hand and scrambling away from a bag on the ground. The animal control guy was still there, since his injuries were minor, so he helped recapture the snake and an officer rode with the robber to the hospital, and I get to add a 430 to my case as well," the Texan grinned at his boss.

Turning his blue gaze on his second in command, the supervisor nodded at her. "And how about your case, Cath?" he inquired.

"The clerk who called in the attempted robbery is sitting in a cell at PD on charges of grand larceny. Seems he'd been replacing some of the pieces in the store with pretty good fakes, but the proprietor always does a complete inventory at the end of the year, so the clerk paid a friend to break-in and trash the cases he'd replaced pieces in. Unfortunately, the buddy was a little overzealous in his efforts, and the proprietor realized that the shards of a Ming vase should not be made of terracota." The strawberry blonde flashed a wide smile as the others laughed at the 'brilliance' of some criminals.

"Well, I think we have more than earned our vacation after this week," Grissom murmured as he rinsed out his mug. "Sleep well, and I'll see you at the party tomorrow night." With a wave he left the room and the criminalists gathering up their files and reports.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Tonight's radio codes are: CATH 407Z = Attempted Robbery, 414 = Grand Larceny; WARRICK 415 = Assault; NICK 401A = Traffic Accident, 414B = T.F.M.V. (Theft From Motor Vehicle), 430 = Animal Bite; SARA 431 = Found Property, 411A Recovered Motor Vehicle<em>

_Only one more night to cover in this story, so we'll see if it finishes in one chapter or two. And FYI, Family Get Together tomorrow (12/29) so won't be posting anything until Friday at the soonest. Thank you for all your kind words, and Happy Holidays!_


	8. Chapter 8

AN: Many, many apologies for taking so long to get the next chapter of this story up for your reading pleasure. My hope is to finish this story before Christmas rolls around again! :) Thank you for reading.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Saturday, December 20th<strong>_

_Venetian Grand Ballroom_

Grissom thanked the coatchecker and pocketed his ticket alongside the one he'd received from the valet for his Mercedes, his sensitive touch brushing against the keycard he'd picked up at the front desk. He mused again on the idea of a private tête-à-tête with Sara . . . enjoying time together without any risks of being interrupted . . .

Shaking his head at how his thoughts were jumping ahead on him, again, the entomologist took a deep breath and turned toward the ballroom, bumping solidly into someone.

"Sorry!" Grissom blurted even as his hand shot out to steady the other man. His sharp eyes took in the red and white garb with a trace of amusement before widening in surprise at recognizing the craggy face behind the white beard. "Jim? What did you do that caused our good Sheriff to, umm, assign you this duty?"

"That's 'Santa,' young man," the gruff Jerseyan snarked with a knowing grin, gripping his friend's hand. "And how do you know that I didn't volunteer for this gig?"

A broad grin appeared on Grissom's face. "Because we're at the Venetian in front of your peers and not at a charity event devoted to children?" he rejoined knowingly.

Brass rolled his eyes and harumphed at his friend's grin. "It's a great honor to be chosen to be Santa . . . and just be glad the Sheriff didn't look outside of PD to bestow said honor." He chuckled as the supervisor's blue eyes widened again at the notion. Deciding to move on to safer (for him) topics, the detective looked the entomologist up and down. "Damn, Gil, you clean up pretty good," he continued, one eyebrow arching as he spied the man's boutonniere. "Though committing a 415 On St. Nick isn't the best way to ensure something nice in your stocking, you know," he gruffly teased.

"I think I'd be a bit afraid of what you'd put into my stocking, Captain Kringle," Grissom retorted, his eyes crinkling in amusement.

"Even if It was 5'8" of brunette whose name you 'picked' at the Secret Santa draw?" The knowing drawl and wink told the entomologist that his friend had him dead to rights. "If I didn't know how honest you are, I'd worry about how well you pulled off that little maneuver," the detective continued, noticing with delight the redness developing on his friend's features. Then he turned serious. "I just hope you know what you're doing, Gil. I'd really hate to see either of you get hurt if you're not serious about this."

"I've never been more serious about anything in my life, Jim," Grissom intoned softly, his gaze locking on his friend's. "If she's willing to give me one last chance, I'm going to spend the rest of my life treating her as she deserves."

A broad grin enveloping his face, the detective nodded his head. "Guess it's a good thing the Sheriff changed the fraternization policy then, eh? Goes into effect on the first of the year, doesn't it?" The small grin on the nightshift supervisor's face answered Brass even before the man nodded. "But how are you going to handle evaluations?"

"How better for Catherine to show her readiness to take on a supervisor's position than by taking on the evaluations and half the case reviews?" Grissom rejoined innocently, his eyes sparkling brightly. As Brass started laughing at his friend's machinations, he continued. "Less paperwork for me, practical experience for Catherine, and no chance of favoritism leveled against Sara . . . It's definitely a win-win situation all around."

"Good to see you finally pulled your head–"

"Out of the microscope?" the entomologist hurriedly interjected as several children suddenly swarmed around the other man, excited to see Santa. Clearing his throat to hide his embarrassment at nearly cursing in front of the kids, 'Santa' turned to greet them as Grissom looked on, his mind churning with a sudden idea that he liked, though he would need Brass's help to accomplish it. _Brass has always had a deft touch with children,_ Gil thought as he watched the interaction.

The gruff Jerseyite finished reassuring the kids that he'd see them in his Grotto soon, before turning back to his waiting friend with a quirked brow. "Something else on your mind, young man?" 'Santa' teased.

Narrowing his eyes at Brass for calling him 'young man' again, Grissom glared at him for a moment before relaxing and nodding his head. "I know that we're supposed to put our final gifts inside for the grand reveal, but I was hoping you could find a way to give this to Sara beforehand?" he asked, holding out an envelope addressed to 'SARA SIDLE.' "Her main gift was delivered earlier, and should already be wherever they're putting them . . . but I need her to have this before then . . . before she sees me . . ." His voice trailed off under the knowing look in Santa Brass' eyes. As the man took the proffered envelope, Grissom shrugged and offered up a shy smile before turning and heading into ballroom and the growing crowd beyond.

* * *

><p>Sara's eyes widened in delight as she exited the sideroom that had been set up as a coatcheck and entryway to the winter wonderland that was the Venetian Grand Ballroom. She had been to the rooms that comprised the ballroom before, for a conference, but never had she seen so many of the moveable walls pulled back to make such an open, entrancing space.<p>

White and blue fabric draped the walls, covered in a sparkling web of crystals and snowflakes. Live trees festooned in garlands of silver, white and blue, and encircled by fluffy mounds of 'snow,' lined the main room; additional 'snowdrifts' surrounded the dais where a string quartet played holiday tunes for those that wished to dance. Glittery fairy lights sparkled everywhere, adding to the wintery ambiance, what with the main lights turned low.

Waiters and waitresses, dressed in white and blue livery, circulated with trays of drinks and hors d'oeuvres, while beside the coatcheck, an open bar had been set up, with an impressive buffet laid out in the next room. The rooms along the back wall and most of the right side had been set up as a dining area, separated from the dance floor, and she could see through the archways leading into the area that there were small faux braziers dotted about to create the feeling of eating outdoors.

In the final corner room, an enormous Christmas tree and Santa's Grotto held a place of prominence and pride. Nearby, a long, draped table was piled with gifts, and Sara gratefully made her way over to deposit her final gift for Super Dave among the gaily wrapped offerings. Her brown eyes flickered over the mounded bags and packages that surrounded a beautifully decorated, three foot pine, wondering if her Secret Santa had arrived yet. Before she had a chance to read more than a couple of tags, a green-clad arm slipped past her to place another gift on the table.

"Hubba hubba, Ms. Sidle! You look good enough to unwrap!"

Blushing furiously, the brunette whirled around to skewer the spiky-haired blond with a glare. "Gregory Hojem Sanders!" she growled, unaware how the spark in her eyes and the high color of her cheeks just enhanced her natural beauty.

Raising his hands defensively, Greg took a small step backwards. There was a slight glitter to his spikes, tonight, and with the Christmas green tux and shoes, red dress shirt, and white tie and cummerbund, he instantly reminded Sara of an oversized elf. But before she could continue to scold him, she spied the green and white sprig pinned to his collar.

Seeing her eyes widen, the lab tech glanced down to make sure everything was properly fastened, then grinned slyly as he realized what she was staring at.

"Like my mistletoe?" he teased, puffing out his chest a little. "I wanted to wear it as a headband dangle, but Catherine overheard me telling Archie about it, and threatened to make me, umm, eat it, if I did." Greg blushed slightly as he edited the fiery red-head's actual threat. "Wanna help me break it in?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows at the stunned CSI.

Sara's eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms as she stared down the younger man. Nothing in his actions matched the feelings of the gifts she'd received in the prior days. Taking a deep breath, she arched an eyebrow at him. "Not sober, Greggo, and I don't plan to drink **that** much."

His hopeful expression quickly morphed to mock-hurt as he clasped a hand over his heart. "Oh, you wound me, fair nymph!" he swooned, pretending to stagger back in pain.

"Ho, ho, ho. Santa thinks he sees a naughty little boy tonight," came a sarcastic drawl from behind the lab tech. Sara's jaw dropped in laughing surprise as she recognized the world-weary blue gaze of 'Santa Claus.' "Or maybe one of my elves escaped the Grotto?" Santa Brass asked as he finally got a good look at Greg's clothes.

Raising his chin with a haughty air, the young man tried for dignity. "I'm festive, thank you. And who did you piss off to get the Santa gig?"

Sara fought back a giggle. She had been dying to ask the same thing, though she'd been trying to come up with a better way to ask it.

Brass' glare turned his blue eyes icy for a moment. "I'll have you know I **volunteered** to dress this way, Sanders. Now what's your excuse?"

"Are you kidding? I'm going to have to beat the ladies off with a stick once they get a load of me and my mistletoe!" Greg retorted with a grin, spinning about to show off his threads.

"Beat on you with a stick is more likely," 'Santa' snorted, his eyes twinkling as he saw the brunette's shoulders quiver right before she lost her fight to hold her laughter back.

Gaze swiveling back and forth between the laughing woman and the smirking detective, the blond man shook his heat at them both. "I know when **I'm** not wanted," he mock-huffed. "I'm off to mingle, don't wait up!"

Finally catching her breath, Sara looked over to see 'Santa' eyeing her appreciatively.

"Sanders may have worded it rather crudely, but his sentiment was correct, you're looking exceptionally lovely tonight," he grinned, eyeing the form-fitting dress she wore with masculine appreciation.

A fresh blush covered her cheeks. "Thank you, Captain Santa." Then a mischievous smile curled her lips. "Volunteered? Really?"

Sighing raggedly, Brass shook his head. "That's what Sheriff Burdick told me," he growled. "Though how you and Gil figured me out so fast . . ." The detective shook his head in consternation.

_Griss is here!_ Sara thought excitedly, trying not to glance around for the man.

"Why is it so hard to believe I'd volunteer to play Santa?" Brass asked plaintively.

"Because this is the LVPD Ball and not the children's ward at the hospital?" she murmured knowingly, her hand moving out to gently squeeze his forearm for a moment. "So, Greggo is obviously here, and you mentioned Griss," she couldn't help looking around now, but hoped she managed to appear nonchalant, "have you seen anyone else from Grave?"

* * *

><p><em>AN2: 415 = Assault<em>


	9. Chapter 9

_AN: I know it has been forever, but rest assured, this story is **not** abandoned, and I will see it to completion! Here is the next installment, and another chapter is almost ready to go . . . it is the part after that that is fighting me - again ;p And I have learned that I am **not** a girly girl (no news there!) and it is much more of a pain to describe women's fancy clothing than men's! Anyway, a huge thank you to all who read and hope you enjoy this. On with the story :)_

* * *

><p>Grissom was still smiling at the image of Brass dressed up as Santa as he made his way through the ballroom. He hadn't dared to comment too much, knowing his friend <strong>would<strong> find a way to get even. As he collected a glass of single malt from the bar, he heard a familiar laugh coming from a cluster of men nearby. A flash of red hair confirmed that Catherine was happily holding court amongst the single men of the LVPD and Crime Lab. He wasn't too surprised at some of the faces in the circle, though his eyebrows arched at spying Warrick dancing careful attendance just to her left. He bit back a smirk as he watched the tall man level a potent glare at one of the other supplicants for the redhead's attentions, and couldn't help but wonder if Catherine knew of the younger man's interest . . .

Shaking his head, he shelved that mystery for now. _Tonight is all about Sara,_ he reminded himself firmly. Normally at events like these he spent his time studying the people and their interactions – one great sociology experiment, he'd once told Catherine. The dynamics of groups was an endless fascination to him, moreso because he'd felt he never truly fit in . . . _Even now,_ he realized as he caught himself drifting to the edges of the growing crowd. Giving himself a mental shake, the curly-haired man moved deliberately into the throng, in search, he hoped, of his future.

* * *

><p>"I saw a bundle of lab folks earlier with that new tox tech in tow," 'Santa' chuckled, recalling the wide-eyed look in the young man's face just before Mandy and Jacqui had dragged him away with them. "I think that boy's scared of me – or else he's got some strange Santa phobia."<p>

"Henry Andrews, right?" Sara grinned at the Captain's nod, remembering bumping into the new tech on his orientation tour. "I heard good things about him. It's too bad that Ecklie managed to nab him for Days."

"Well, I doubt that Gil has given up getting him transferred to Grave, he's quite stubborn when he's made up his mind about something he wants." Brass smirked at the sudden sharp interest in the brunette's gaze, but chose to return to the original question. "I'm pretty sure I saw Catherine arrive earlier, but I haven't seen the boys or the morgue crew yet." A sly smile curled his lips behind the fake beard as he watched her glance around. "Why? Looking for someone in particular?"

A soft blush colored her cheeks. "No," she drawled, "but I'd rather hang out with our shift, you know?" Even to her ears the excuse sounded weak, and she couldn't quite meet the knowing blue eyes of the detective.

"I'd offer to let you sit on my knee and tell me what you want for Christmas," Santa Brass teased, chuckling at the bright blush that now colored Sara's face, "but I don't want you equating me with Elf Sanders. Plus," he added with a wink, "I'm pretty sure someone else has that covered this year."

Wondering what the 'good Saint' knew, her eyes narrowed as she began considering methods to get the information she wanted.

Knowing that look all too well, Brass held up his gloved hands defensively even as he began to laugh. "Oh, no, Ms. Sidle, no interrogation of Santa Claus, that would put you on the naughty list, and then I couldn't give you . . ." He paused dramatically, patting about his person in an exaggerated manner. Just before Sara was prepared to start a strip search on the big tease, the detective produced an envelope from his jacket, with a flourish. ". . . this. Soooo . . . have you been a good girl this year, Ms. Sidle?" he drawled, waggling the envelope back and forth tauntingly.

One elegant eyebrow curved upward as the brunette smirked and stepped closer to the jolly man. "Unfortunately, 'Santa', you're married to Mrs. Claus, so you'll never know how 'good' I can be," Sara purred, plucking the missive from Brass's suddenly nerveless fingers and grinning at his vibrantly rosy cheeks. With a saucy wink, she turned and sauntered away, eyes searching for a spot to open her card in some privacy.

* * *

><p>Politely dipping his head in parting, Gil Grissom slipped away from the Undersheriff and his wife, his gaze once again scanning the growing crowds for any sign of Sara Sidle. A chance parting in the throng revealed Santa Brass raising his gloved hands and laughing at a vision dressed in deep holly green. Mesmerized, the entomologist slowly moved closer, his sharp eyes drinking in every detail of the beauty before him.<p>

Her dark hair was pulled up in an elegant twist, exposing her long neck to his view. A loose tendril by her ear swayed as she leaned in, saying something that brought a rosy glow to 'Santa's' cheeks. Briefly Grissom wondered what she could have said to bring that reaction from the normally stoic cop, but his attention rapidly snapped back to Sara as she turned, giving him a full view of her evening gown. The dress was strapless with a sweetheart neckline, and an incredibly sexy, wide-open corset back. Covered in twinkling sequins, a few iridescent rhinestone embellishments sparkled on the bodice. An asymmetric, high-low hemline created a slight train, and, paired with the matching green sandaled heels she wore, showed off her long legs amazingly. An intricate, snow-white lace shawl, fringed with red and white seed beads, draped from her elbows, and only added to her elegance in his mind. And Grissom couldn't help but grin as he noticed that the only piece of jewelry she was wearing was the ring necklace he'd given her just a few days ago.

The mingling throng hid the entomologist from the brunette's view as she turned, and he saw her thread her way through the crowd to a sheltered spot beside the gigantic Christmas tree. Watching a moment longer as she opened the envelope and began reading the card inside, Grissom took a deep breath, and, after finishing his drink and handing it off to a passing waiter, slowly began working his way toward her side.

* * *

><p>Sara's fingers played over the envelope as she wended her way through the swirling masses and tucked into the corner by the huge Christmas tree. <em>This should give me a little privacy,<em> the brunette mused, glancing around before turning her full attention to the heavy paper hiding the final card from her Secret Santa. 'Sara Sidle' was elegantly scripted in the same unknown handwriting of the previous five. With a soft huff, she flipped it over and ran a nail under the flap.

Her eyes took in yet another beautiful snowscape, this one including a snow-shrouded cabin, the windows alight with an enticing golden glow. On the red door, a heart-shaped wreath drew the eye, _Inviting one in,_ she thought, as she gently touched the homey scene before opening the card itself.

_My dearest Sara,_

_If home is where the heart is, then my true home must be with you. I'm just sorry it took so long for this stubborn old fool to realize that truth._

_I made a grave mistake many months ago, turning you away . . . I would like a chance to explain . . . to answer all your questions . . . to show you how much I truly love you._

_On the final day of Gift Exchange, Secret Santa gives to thee . . . the holly and the ivy, the evergreen . . . and hopefully so much more . . ._

_Holly symbolizes beauty shining within – your inner beauty, Sara, only serves to make your outer beauty shine all the brighter._

_Ivy symbolizes dependence and endurance – something you have in abundance, Honey, waiting on me to figure this out._

_Evergreen symbolizes rebirth, a new start, a second chance._

_The ornaments decorating your tree are all made of natural materials, handwoven of wheat and straw, the colors from natural dyes. Some are traditional designs, some specifically designed with you in mind. The balls are made of nuts and seeds, meant to be left with the tree when it comes to its final home in the Toiyabe National Forest, as part of their replanting program._

_I know your life can go on without me, that you can be happy without me, that you can survive without me. But even if you turn me away, I will still choose to stay with you and be your sweetest stranger forever. __རྩྭ __Unknown_

_Merry Christmas, my dearest Sara._

_Love, your Secret Santa_

_P.S. I know what to do now – and I pray that I am not too late._

Sara's breath caught in her throat. Throughout the note, she had been growing more and more sure that Grissom was indeed her Secret Santa, as all the clues and hints she'd received throughout the week were reinforced by the words within. Words that leapt off the page at her:

_**Stubborn old fool**__ – stubborn, definitely; fool, maybe; old, never!_ she thought fondly.

_**I made a grave mistake many months ago, turning you away**__ – he thinks it was a mistake!_ she almost danced in place at that admission.

_**Honey**__ – Griss is the only one who has called me that . . ._ Her palm tingled at the memory.

_**Beauty**__ – he thinks I'm beautiful, he thinks of beauty when he thinks of me._

But it was the postscript that caused her eyes to mist and a huge smile to appear on her face. Clasping the card to her chest, Sara looked over at the small Christmas tree that she had thought was merely a centerpiece for the gift table. From this angle, she could see that the pine was in a decorative container, that mostly hid the root ball wrapping which showed it was a live tree ready for planting. Then her eyes darted around the ballroom, trying to spot Grissom amongst the mingling crowd. But before she could spy him, she felt a familiar warmth, an undefinable tingle, run up her spine, and she **knew** that he was near.


	10. Chapter 10

_AN: Here's another chapter!_

* * *

><p>The nightshift supervisor slipped quietly around the Christmas tree, hidden from the crowds by the thick branches, and able to gaze at Sara from the flickering shadows. Over the years the entomologist had often covertly watched the lithe woman, allowing the sight of her to soothe his longing to do more. Now, with the possibility of that elusive 'more' becoming a reality, it was all he could do to hold himself back, and wait for the right moment. He couldn't help but smile as he saw her tilt her head in exactly the way she did when studying evidence. He watched her nod her head several times, but it was the way her breath caught and her head shot up that involuntarily pulled him a few steps toward her.<p>

As she turned her head to the left, toward the table piled with gifts, he froze, unsure of the breadth of her peripheral vision. While he couldn't see her beautiful brown eyes, he could tell that she was smiling, and his heart swelled with hope. Then her head turned again, and he just knew that her gaze was sweeping the milling throng. Sending up a quick prayer of thanks and hopefulness, he closed that last few feet, stopping behind her and slightly to her right.

"Good evening, Ms. Sidle," he murmured, trying not to startle her with his sudden appearance at her side. The brunette spun to face him, the heels she wore, he noted with pleasure, placing their eyes on the same level. "I hope I'm not being too forward, but may I say that you are looking exceptionally lovely this evening."

Staring straight into his amazingly clear blue eyes, Sara could feel the warmth of her cheeks as she blushed at his praise. An appreciative smile pursed her lips as her gaze trailed over his own dark ensemble. The touch of red and the sparkle of gold on the otherwise all black garb made her think of a Lindt truffle . . . _Definitely good enough to eat!_ she thought impishly, even as her eyes fastened with a thrill on his boutonniere. "I most definitely can say the same about you, Dr. Grissom," she replied, giggling as his eyebrows arched questioningly at her. "Oh, sorry, do you prefer the word handsome?" the brown-eyed woman teased, delighted to see his ears and cheeks pinken slightly.

"If I didn't know what an exemplary CSI you are, I might be worried about your eyesight," he intoned gruffly, resisting the urge to rub the back of his neck. He felt lost, his gaze locked with hers, his brain scrambling for any of the conversational openings he had considered and practiced. Even prepared, he still found himself tongue-tied around the beautiful brunette. "I, um, see that 'Santa' made his delivery," he finally blurted out with a shy smile, indicating the card she clutched.

Nodding her head, she returned his smile with one of her own. "A very precious gift," she whispered, her eyes darting from his face to the card, then back again.

Grissom could see the question in her eyes, and nodded in answer. "I meant every word, Sara . . . you are an endless mystery that haunts my thoughts both day and night. From a meeting of minds, we have become so much more than just a teacher and his star pupil." His lightly teasing tone brought the color to her cheeks again at the memory. "And though I've strained our friendship through my ineptness, I've never forgotten it. I let my doubts and fears rule, trying to use logic when I should have been listening to my heart . . ." Gil breathed a sigh of relief that the words finally flowing freely as he emotionally laid himself at her feet. "Love is not something to define, but something to be . . . and every time I started to grasp that, something happened to make me doubt that someone as beautiful, as vibrantly full of life as you are, could ever feel the same way about me as I feel about you."

Sara stared, absolutely speechless as he paused, drawing in several deep breaths.

"But now, I **am** listening to my heart, which I should have done years ago. I know what to do, Sara," he murmured, brushing the backs of his fingers lightly against her cheek for a moment, then reaching to take her hand in his. Bringing it to his lips, he pressed a light kiss to her palm, and smiled as he heard the music change into a familiar tune. "May I have this dance, Ms. Sidle?"

With her entire body tingling from the feel of his lips against her skin, not to mention the thoughts that flashed through her mind at the gentle tickle of his beard and mustache, it took her a moment to register his question. She blinked and slowly nodded, a brilliant smile suddenly lighting her face.

Amazed that he had rendered Sara Sidle speechless, the nightshift supervisor placed on hand on her lower back as he escorted her to the dance floor.

As he moved to lead her into a slow foxtrot, Sara paused for a moment before boldly sliding her hand inside his jacket and slipping her card into the inner breast pocket. The brunette smiled demurely at his startled look. "For safe keeping," she said softly as she nestled into his arms.

Shaking his head in bemusement, the entomologist whispered, "You are a tease, Ms. Sidle," chuckling at her 'Who me?' look. He easily led her through the first dance, smiling as the music segued into 'The Christmas Waltz.' A raised eyebrow was answered with a happy sigh as she settled even more into his embrace.

The words of the song came readily to mind, as Grissom recalled watching his parents dance to Frank Sinatra's classic rendition so many years ago. He couldn't help but softly sing along as he skillfully waltzed Sara around the dance floor.

"Frosted windowpanes  
>Candles gleaming inside<br>Painted candy canes on the tree  
>He's filled his sleigh with things<br>Things for you and me."

"It's that time of year  
>When the world falls in love<br>Ev'ry song you hear seems to say  
>Merry Christmas<br>May your New Year dreams come true  
>And this song of mine<br>In three-quarter time  
>Wishes you and yours<br>The same thing too."

The brunette's face was the epitome of surprise at the soft sound of his light baritone in her ear as he sang the words to her. The tune, and the warmth he put into the words, made her feel that all her wishes really could come true.

The light, refreshing aroma of lavender tantalized his senses as he held her close, filling him with a sense of calm. It was a scent he had caught a few times over the years and one that drew him back to those heady days in San Francisco when they had first met. He recalled teasing her that while it might repel moths and fleas, it didn't do a thing for the other insects that she showed a reluctance for. Her rejoinder of "What does it do for entomologists?" had been the first time she had left him speechless. With a shake of his head at his own stupidity for not paying attention to his heart sooner, Grissom renewed his determination to never let anything come between them again. His twinkling gaze met her eyes as a new song began, and at her nod of approval, he smiled as they continued to dance, this time to a faster version of the waltz.

Thrilled at the opportunity to be so close to the man, Sara was a little surprised at how well he could dance, having heard Catherine complain that she could never get him to partner her at prior functions. Curiosity spurred her to ask, "Been taking lessons, Dr. Grissom?"

Blue eyes looked at her in puzzlement for a moment, and she could see the glint in his eye as he realized what she was asking about. "Not recently, Ms. Sidle," he boyishly grinned. "Catherine **thinks** she knows far more about me than she does, and much of what she 'knows' is really guesswork," he added reassuringly. The subtle tilt of her head told him that she wanted to know more, and he willingly obliged. "Shortly after I started here in Vegas, I was required to go to a political function by the Sheriff. The talk around the lab, made me realize that the purpose of the party was to only to curry favor and make political connections, mostly for the bosses. And you know how much I _love _making mindless small talk with politicos."

Sara couldn't quite stop the laughter that burst forth at the notion of "Gruesome" Grissom happily mingling with the glittering masses that always seemed to flock after the Sheriff and his cronies.

He smiled indulgently at her giggle. "So I made sure to bring up the latest gruesome case I was dealing with, and made a gentle hash over any dances I was forced into, which wasn't too hard if it was a fast dance – I much prefer the slow ones. After a short while, I was left alone and was able to make my escape back to the lab." He grinned devilishly. "In fact, my tactics were so successful, that I made sure to repeat them at all such mandatory functions. By the time Catherine joined the lab, my non-dancing reputation was firmly established, and I never had to do more than put in a token appearance at any subsequent party, since the bigwigs did not want to spoil their glittering evenings with my bugs and bodies."

Grinning in delight at the smug look on his face, Sara couldn't help teasing him a little. "Well, I think your secret is out now," she giggled, nodding gaily as they swung past Catherine and Nick on the dance floor. "She doesn't look too happy with you!"

The curly-haired man nodded easily at the surprised Texan, and just shrugged at the glare his redheaded friend was sending his way. "She'll eventually get over it," he replied as they spun away from their colleagues through the other dancers. "Besides, there is only one woman I'm concerned with pleasing, and that most definitely is **not** Catherine Willows." Grissom looked directly into Sara's eyes to emphasize his statement, smiling impishly at her wide-eyed stare.

They finished the dance in comfortable silence: Sara still digesting everything that had happened so far that evening, Grissom delighting in rendering her speechless once again. As the music changed to a more up tempo song, the entomologist led the brunette off the floor and toward the sumptuous buffet, his hand naturally finding its way to her lower back again. "Hungry, Ms. Sidle?" he murmured.


End file.
